


Here be Dragons?

by aljohnson



Series: The YACI-verse (Modern AU) [2]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Developing Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Modern AU, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-29 05:20:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 49,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3883903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aljohnson/pseuds/aljohnson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuing the tale of 2011!Phryne & Jack.</p><p>This takes up immediately where YACI left off...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wednesday 4th May

**Author's Note:**

> Two phone calls...

Jack felt remarkably rejuvenated; he had slept so well last night. There was still a very faint aroma of Phryne on his pillows, even this morning. As he had woken he had inhaled deeply and smiled as he remembered the events of the previous evening. He had greatly enjoyed kissing Phryne, and she had said she had enjoyed it too. A part of him wished that he hadn’t had to take her home at all.

Phryne’s social media activity had gone quiet. Jack idly checked her feeds whilst he ate breakfast. There had been the Facebook post yesterday, but nothing since. He ‘liked’ that post, noting that a number of her friends had commented on how pleased they were that she was back. Twitter had been silent since she had updated from Heathrow Airport on Sunday. Her follower numbers however had leapt to Fifty Thousand. Jack chewed whilst he considered that. He knew Twitter was fluid - that number would probably reduce as her life got back to normal. Well, as normal as Phryne’s life ever became, which Jack was coming to realise was very far indeed from his definition of the word. He also knew that much of her public persona was just that; an image that the newspapers wanted to believe, rather than a true reflection of who she actually was. Jack googled her name – the newspapers had published the pictures of her arriving at the airport and walking into her house. But the news cycle was already moving on – the pictures were in far fewer papers than the previous shots had been. Other issues were knocking this non-story down the news agenda.

He was well aware that he needed to sort out a table for dinner on Friday evening. Knowing that calling in the early morning was an error, he waited until lunch before he rang Tommo.

“Jack! How are you?”

“I’m good Tommo, I’m good mate. Listen, I need a favour. Is there any chance of a table for Friday evening?” Jack stood up from his desk and moved around to close his office door.

“Friday evening? It’s already Wednesday, Jack.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He leant against the desk. If Tommo couldn’t sort this for him he’d have to look elsewhere, and that would make circumstances less controllable.

“How many for? If it’s for your sister and her whole tribe, there’s no chance…” Jack heard the pages on the booking sheets being turned over hastily.

“It’s for two. A table for two. For me.”

“You’ve not got a date have you?” Tommo chuckled as he flicked the pages over to Friday’s bookings.

Jack went silent.

“Bloody hell, you have! Well it’s about time Jack. I’ll sort something out. What time?” Tommo scanned the page. A Friday in May, autumn turning slowly into winter, only two weeks after the long Easter and ANZAC break; there were spaces amongst the bookings .

“I’ve told her I’ll pick her up at Seven Thirty so, about Eight by the time we get over to you?”

“We’ll be ready. So, anyone I know?”

“Erm, yeah, you’ve met her. Remember the woman who found the coach’s missing hat? It’s her.”

“The posh bird? Blimey Jack, how the hell have you done that?”

“I’m honestly not sure mate. Listen, there’s something else.”

“Which is?”

“I really need it not to become public knowledge that she’s in your restaurant. She’s trying to keep a bit of a low profile at the moment.”

“When you say public knowledge, are you asking me not to tell my mum, so she doesn’t tell your mum?”

“No. Well, yes, but not just that. I just need to make sure we have some privacy.” Jack paused, “I really like her Tommo. And this is really important to me. Please?”

“Of course mate. I’ll see you Friday.”

“Thanks Tommo, bye.”

“Bye Jack” and Tommo hung up. He decided he could keep a table open for Jack for the entire evening. He knew Jack Robinson, and whilst the bloke could shovel food down when he was running around at work, he also knew Jack could take an eternity to eat when the company was good and the food unhurried. And the bloke really deserved a chance to relax, lord knew it had taken him long enough to get to this point. Tommo mentally ran through his staffing rota for Friday. Paolo would be a good choice to wait on the table. Tommo made a note in the bookings sheet ‘Table 4 - Robinson – 2 heads – ALL NIGHT. Paolo, see me please, T’, and flipped the book shut.

 

*****************************************************

 

Phryne paced the carpet of her bedroom. Jane had been so excited to see her last night, and had had to be bundled to bed with hot chocolate to try and calm her down in the end. Before that there had been quite a lot of hugs and Jane had demanded to see all of Phryne’s photos from the trip. There had been some questions about the newspapers and Harry, and Phryne had tried to explain exactly how little regard for the truth some reporters had. This morning Jane had been calmer at breakfast, and had been sent off to school weighed down with PE gear and textbooks.

Phryne was at home when Jane returned from school and they spent the evening huddled up on the sofa watching the Keira Knightley version of Pride & Prejudice. Phryne was always disappointed that no-one ever adapted the chapters of the book where Lizzie and Darcy were sneaking around, having declared themselves to each other but not to the wider world. Jane fell asleep on Phryne’s shoulder before Lizzie stood on the Derbyshire Peaks Phryne herself had once visited. It was always so cold there, Phryne thought, feeling herself shiver. She tucked Jane into bed and fifteen minutes later was contemplating how to open this next awkward telephone call. Finding the number she hit the call button. After a lengthy pause, the faint tone of a faraway ringing tone began.

“Brockworth House.” Phryne heard her father’s deep voice, the Australian twang still audible under his attempts to speak with a refined accent.

“Father? It’s Phryne.” She breathed deeply, attempting to remain calm.

“Phryne my girl, how are you? Get back to Melbourne all right?” her father was shouting slightly. It annoyed her that neither of her parents could deal with technology with any competence. It also gave her an excuse to avoid speaking to them.

“I did father, but I walked into an absolute storm of paparazzi.”

“Yes, I saw the pictures in today’s tabloids.” Phryne heard her father chuckling slightly. Phryne saw red.

“I blame you for this, father.” She seethed the words.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You shooting your bloody mouth off father, suggesting there’s something between Harry and myself.” She was done with being polite.

“Well there is. I’ve known it for years.”

“No, father, there is not. And even if we were involved, we would be entitled to conduct ourselves in private, without you sticking your oar in,” Phryne was becoming louder and angrier as the conversation continued.

“Now Phryne,” her father attempted to interject.

“And _IF_ there was anything between Harry and I, you shooting your mouth off would have put the kibosh on it, wouldn’t it? Which would rather derail your plans to make me a fucking princess!” Phryne was suddenly much more angry than she had anticipated she would be.

“Now calm down my girl, how was I to know?” she could hear her father’s bluster.

“By listening to me father! By just for once, _listening_ to what I had to say. I told you, I have told you, repeatedly, that Harry and I are just friends. We aren’t in a relationship, we aren’t having some star-crossed romance; he doesn’t want to marry me, and I don’t want to be married to anyone. But what you have done, father, is propel me, and by extension, Harry, onto the front pages and the News channels. You have jeopardised our friendship, you have made Jane’s day very difficult, and you have made me the centre of paparazzi stalking.”

Her father had been very quiet while Phryne had exploded at him, “I didn’t realise, Phryne.”

“How? How did you not realise? You know what they are like, father. You know that any comment is detrimental. You know that they will twist anything you say to fit the story they want to tell. That is why you never say anything; you never give them more fuel for their fire. This is going to go on now, and I just want to go back to my quiet little life down here. Was it too much to ask father that just for once you could keep your mouth shut?” She could feel her anger exhausting itself, feel her rage subsiding as she expressed herself bluntly.

“I honestly thought Phryne, that there was something going on, and you just needed a nudge.” Phryne tried not to snort at that.

“Harry and I do not _need a nudge_ , father. Now please banish this foolish notion, and let me get on with my life.”

“I am going to presume, Phryne, that you are still jet-lagged, and forgive your appalling manner. I can tell that it must be very late over there now, so I shall let you go to bed. We shall discuss this another time,” said Lord Fisher, with a politeness that Phryne knew was forced.

“No, we will not. Goodbye Father.” she said, hanging up as he bid her good night. She threw her phone onto her bed and kicked the closest leg of the bed-frame. She glared at the phone, breathing heavily in anger, daring her father to ring her back. Not that she would ever admit it, but her foot was smarting from the kick she had inflicted on the foot of the bed. She sat down in exasperation and picked up her phone once more. She opened Facebook and updated her status:

 

_Darlings, hasn’t the press been interesting? Let’s hope it’s going to die down soon! Thanks for your discretion  :) (10.32pm)_

 

_Liz Mac: Oi! Phryne Fisher, Bertie J, we have unfinished business! (10.34pm)_

_Bertie J: What’s this? (10.39pm)_

_Liz Mac: Pay up Bertie J – I get something for ‘some pappy BS about her and some bloke’ (10.42pm)_

_Phryne Fisher: This is so not the time for this. (10.45pm)_

_Phryne Fisher: How many stories has it been now, in the end? (10.48pm)_

_Bertie J: 342. So no-one wins. (10.52pm)_

_Liz Mac: I get something, surely! Unless the stuff about HRH is true? (10.55pm)_

_Phryne Fisher: I believe I explained that it was complete nonsense. (10.58pm)_

_Bertie J: I’ll give you half the pot Liz Mac (11.03pm)_

_Liz Mac: I’ll take it! You having drinks to celebrate your return Phryne Fisher? (11.05pm)_

_Phryne Fisher: Not sure Liz Mac. Will ponder on it. Jet lag really hitting now, going to sleep. (11.10pm)_

 

 


	2. Friday 6th May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...One First Date

Jack rang the doorbell at precisely seven thirty. He rubbed his gloved hands together. There was a breeze blowing across the bay making the city feel cold. He heard footsteps cross the hallway on the other side of the door. Phryne flung the door open and smiled at him.

He tried to keep his gaze fixed on her face, but he found himself quickly sweeping his eyes up and down her body. She was wearing a knee-length dress that hugged her body from its shoulder straps to its bottom hem-line. It was a deep navy, with thin spaghetti straps and a neckline that demurely dipped in the middle. She had left her hair flowing freely and was wearing heels that threatened merely to injure a man rather than kill him.

“Hello,” said Jack, trying very hard not to sound like a love-struck teenager.

“Hello,” replied Phryne, a bright smile forming on her face.

Jack wondered whether he should step inside the house for a moment. Should he kiss her? What on earth was the protocol for this? He hadn’t been on a first date in fifteen years. Suddenly he felt very old.

“Would you like to come in for a moment?” Phryne asked, trying not to let her nervousness sound in her voice. She appraised Jack. It was difficult to tell what he was wearing underneath the thick black overcoat and gloves. His hair was free of its usual gel, and Jack had obviously taken some time to style it. He looked very dashing and Phryne wondered if it was acceptable to kiss him? She did this so rarely – going out with someone on a date without really knowing what they were.

Phryne took a step backwards and Jack stepped into the hallway, leaving the front door slightly ajar. She picked up a scarf from the small side table in the hallway and gathered up the coat which was lying across the handrail of the staircase. Jack automatically stepped closer to help her into the garment as Phryne slipped her arms into the material. She turned to face him as he brushed his gloved hands lightly down her sleeves. Phryne made no attempt to fasten the coat’s over-sized buttons as Jack slipped his fingers around hers.

Jack clocked the brief glance of Phryne’s eyes between his eyes and his lips and back again, and decided that life was too short not to kiss Phryne Fisher at every opportunity that presented itself. He licked his lips slightly as he dipped his head and kissed her gently. Phryne responded immediately, closing her eyes and parting her lips readily. Jack was suddenly conscious that they were in her hallway, and he had no idea who else was at home. He broke the kiss and squeezed her hands with his. “We should be going” he said, quietly.

“Of course” said Phryne, grabbing a small clutch bag from the side table and stepping forward to open the front door. Jack followed her, stepping in front of her as Phryne shut the door behind them.  

Jack escorted her to his car, holding the passenger side door open for her, before moving around and settling in the driver’s seat.

“So, where are we going?” asked Phryne, brightly.

“Hawthorn,” replied Jack, pulling his car out into the traffic.

Phryne nodded and looked around Jack’s car. Her Jag had clutter scattered on every available surface, whereas Jack’s car was impeccably tidy. On the small shelf above the stereo there were three CDs, two pens and what Phryne recognised as a Force issue notebook, which appeared to be unused. Jack was a very careful driver, which Phryne knew from previous journeys together, yet he still managed to get them to Hawthorn in only a little over twenty minutes, and parked up in a parking area on a side street.

 

They got out of the car and Jack walked to Phryne’s side and offered her his arm. Phryne smiled to herself as she hooked her arm through Jack’s. He was really remarkably sweet, she thought. They walked around the corner and Jack paused at the door to the restaurant.

“I hope Italian’s okay?” he asked.

“They’re all supposed to be very good around here aren’t they?” Phryne replied.

Jack said nothing but smiled as he held the door open for her. Phryne stood to one side as Jack moved over to speak to the member of staff who was obviously dealing with the reservations.

“Good evening” said the girl, smiling at Jack, “do you have a reservation?”

“Erm, yes. Table for two, in the name of Robinson?” Jack phrased it as half a question, and half a statement. The girl consulted the book and her eyes widened slightly.

“Of course, Sir. Paolo will be your waiter this evening. May I take your coats, Sir?”

Jack tried not to laugh at the girl’s obvious sudden nervousness. Plainly Tommo had spoken with all of the staff. He presumed Tommo himself was hiding in the back. Jack glanced towards the ceiling, located the security camera and subtly shook his head in admonishment. In the kitchen, Tommo grinned.

The girl relieved them of their coats, allowing Phryne to see that Jack was wearing a suit that was considerably more well-tailored even than his usual work ones. Somehow, as if he was psychic, the colour of his tie matched that of her dress.

A certain level of intimacy between dining partners had been assumed, and Jack and Phryne were sat at adjoining sides of the square table. The food was excellent, and the waiter was quite the most professional and discreet provider of such a service that Phryne had borne witness to since she had been at The Dorchester with Claire - and the restaurant there had a Michelin Star.

 

Over dinner, they talked about how their respective weeks had been since Tuesday, and how Jane was, and how Phryne had been subject to a light ribbing from Mac regarding the press coverage of her in London. Phryne talked about how the business had managed in her absence, and Jack talked as much as he could about his cases at work.

They discussed the Andrews case, and Phryne expressed her surprise and dismay that Lydia could have murdered her own husband. “It’s just so unlike her Jack. I don’t know what could have come over her.”

Jack shrugged, “Well, in the end she admitted it. It seems there was a final straw that broke her, that one last act that pushed her over the edge.”

The tables around them had emptied and they found themselves alone at one end of the restaurant. A clever arrangement of the reservations by Tommo meant that Jack and Phryne were hidden from the view of the other diners by the layout of the restaurant. Jack and Phryne had taken their time over ordering and eating, and now they were considering whether they wanted to see the dessert menu.

Phryne had fallen silent for a minute and when she next spoke it was with quiet trepidation.. “Jack, how is this going to work? I mean, I’m sure the Force has all sorts of rules about you discussing cases with outsiders. And I’m sure they have even more for when the outsider is someone with a PI Licence.”

“Well, I’m probably not even supposed to talk about things with you as much as I do,” confessed Jack, taking her hand in his.

“Jack Robinson, have you been ignoring Force directives?” smouldered Phryne, her thumb swirling across the back of his fingers.

“I’ve been ignoring all sorts of things as far as you’re concerned, Phryne,” he responded, his tone low.

“I am sorry if I’ve ever made things difficult for you Jack. You know I’d never mean to.” she said, suddenly serious.

“Are you being apologetic, Miss Fisher?” Jack leaned in closer to Phryne, his head tilting minutely.

“I like to surprise every so often, Inspector,” she said, softly, moving closer herself. She kissed him, gently at first. She felt Jack move his free hand to her cheek, holding her delicately.

 

“Shouldn’t you go and offer them the dessert menu?” said the young sous-chef to Paolo, who was hovering behind the kitchen door.

“If I go over there now, one or the other of them will probably shoot me. And I’m not sure I fancy my chances against either of them,” replied Paolo, who was monitoring the activities of his only diners of the evening closely. Tommo had told him that the man was one of his oldest friends, and that absolutely everything had to go perfectly for him this evening. Paolo had also managed to glean what he could from Tommo about the lady, and had then done his research. Paolo knew exactly who The Honourable Phryne Fisher was, and was somewhat surprised, if he was honest, that she was out with a bloke from Richmond. It was however obvious that she was very keen on Tommo’s friend. Even without the kissing which was currently ensuing, Paolo could see that.

 

As they broke apart, Paolo plucked two menus from the stack and strode across to the table. He smiled brightly at the couple who were still holding hands. “Sir, Miss. Can I interest you in dessert?”

Jack and Phryne considered their options and elected to share one dessert but with two spoons. As the towering glass serving dish was placed between them, Phryne decided to raise the subject again.

“Seriously, Jack. Are you going to be in trouble at work if we become serious?” she tried not to over-think her use of the word ‘serious’, telling herself it was just a hypothetical enquiry.

“I don’t know, Phryne. There are plenty of PIs who used to be coppers, and everyone knows that their mates who are still serving meet up with them for beers, and to chew things over and nothing’s ever said. As long as I don’t tell you sensitive information on cases you’re not involved in, it will be fine. I already get approval if I want to call you in to consult on a case; I imagine I might just have to justify it a little more. You just have a habit of turning up at my cases even if I’m not calling you in. But I think if we agree that we’ll act professionally, and not refer to, well, this” he gestured between them as he raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers, “then my DCI and the HR people probably won’t have a problem.”

“So you are going to have to talk to your work about this?” Phryne asked quietly as she picked up a spoon and slid it into the icy concoction.

“I imagine so. But there’s no pressure for me to do that right now. We don’t have a case together and this is very new, isn’t it?” Jack collected his spoon, and skimmed a thin sliver of gelato off the top of the carefully arranged scoops.

“Yes.” Phryne agreed. “So we behave professionally, if we meet at a crime scene, and you’ll tell your work, if it becomes…”

“Serious?” asked Jack, loading his spoon with another swirl.

“Yes.” Phryne finished. She looked at Jack and swallowed heavily. He offered his spoon to her, and she smiled as she swallowed the strawberry flavoured gelato.

“I imagine you don’t have a HR department?” Jack asked, casually.

“I am the HR department, Jack. And finance, and management and logistics, and supplies and staffing rotas and payroll. Well, actually I outsource that last one. But I do decide how much everyone’s _getting_ paid. And I’m everything else as well.”

“So no-one at your work has to approve of this then?” Jack asked with a smile, waving his spoon between them.

“They don’t. I’m entirely responsible for my own decisions.”

“And what about Jane?” asked Jack

“What about Jane?” shrugged Phryne.

“Well do you have to ask Jane’s permission to date people?” Jack tried not to emphasise the word ‘date’. He wasn’t sure he was successful.

“Jane doesn’t know about this.”

“Where does she think you are?”

“She knows I’m out on a, date. She just doesn't know who with.”

“Do you think she’d object, if she knew?” Jack asked cautiously.

Phryne shrugged. “I don’t think so. She likes you Jack. She came to you when she realised what a mess I was in with the press. She was really pleased that you came to the house for the wedding. I just…” Phryne wanted to try and explain without offending Jack. “She knows I go out on dates. And she generally asks two questions.”

“Which are?”

“Is he hot? Will you be home tonight?”

“And did she ask you those questions this evening?”

Phryne rolled her eyes. “She did. And I said, ‘yes, he’s hot! And, yes, I rather imagine I will be home this evening’.” Phryne scanned Jack’s face for a response. For all that she was fairly sure they might end up in bed at some point, she was quite certain that Jack wanted to take matters slowly. It had after all been her who had made the first move - she was quite convinced Jack would still be merely considering the prospect if she hadn’t said anything.

Jack tried not to look amused. He was quite sure he wasn’t succeeding. “I got called ‘hot’ when I was at your house to watch the wedding.”

“Really? By Jane?”

“No. By one of her friends. But Jane did say ‘ _he’s Phryne’s_ ’. Which was, unnerving.” Jack hoped he hadn’t just landed Jane in trouble. The comment had been one more nudge that he needed to do something about their situation. It had merely been Phryne’s impetuous nature that had led her to ask him before he had had the opportunity.

“Oh. What did you say to that?” Phryne wondered exactly how many people had realised that there was an attraction between her and Jack? She also wondered why none of them had said anything.

“I didn’t. I went and hid in the kitchen. I don’t think I was supposed to hear.” Jack felt like he was confessing a sin.

"So I think we can conclude that she wouldn't object.  You know, for all that she’s probably going to be a doctor, I do think she’d do excellently well if she followed in Helen’s footsteps.”

“At your work? Is that an option?” Jack was grateful for what felt like it was a change of subject.

“Well the business will be hers one day. I’m really just looking after it for her until she’s old enough to decide what she wants to do.”

“And what if she decides she doesn’t want to run it?” Jack asked.

Phryne shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll buy it from her. Maybe I’ll just run it and pass her the profits directly, rather than just sinking them into her trust like I do at the moment. Maybe I’ll go and do something different altogether.”

“How do you even begin to know how to run a business? I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Well, I picked up some knowledge from our Estate Manager when I was still in England. And Helen herself, who left me a three volume Office Manual. A lot of it I’ve picked up as I’ve gone along. And Dot has been invaluable.”

“What’s an Estate Manager?”

“It’s the chap, and it usually is a chap, who knows the Estate, and manages relations with the tenants and the workers and suggests ideas about how to manage the land. I mean, the Lords before my father, and the one who comes next are really only custodians for the time being. The Estate will outlast us all.”

“Right. So, who comes next? Isn’t it you?”

Phryne snorted, “Oh Jack. No. it’s not. By virtue of being _merely a woman_ , I’m considered incapable. The next heir is a fourteen year old snot-nosed brat who is something like my third cousin. Twice removed. Thank goodness.”

“Shame, I could see you as a Lady of the Manor.”

“I think I could carry off the Ermine robes with aplomb.”

“I’m sure you could. But for the moment you’re running the agency?”

“I am. As I say as a custodian. For Jane.”

They finished eating and Paolo cleared the table before bringing the bill. Jack glanced at it and tried not to laugh. In handwriting which Jack noted was as appalling as his often was, Tommo had written:

 

_Don’t even think you’re paying for this Jack. Just please leave a tip for Paolo, you’re his only table tonight._

 

Phryne observed Jack reading the bill. She noted the curled lip and wry smile. Jack produced an amount of cash from his wallet which was in excess of the expected cost of the meal by a considerable margin.

Phryne smiled having already deduced that Jack somehow knew the owner of the restaurant. The service had been exceptional, and the waiter had clearly only been attending to them. Now she would wager that Jack’s connection had waived the bill. After consideration she determined that she would allow Jack to keep his secret. She would never have expected that he would know a restaurant proprietor, and she noted that Jack Robinson was a man who was sometimes full of surprises. It was quite surprised how tactile he was now that they had shifted their relationship somewhat.

 

They left the restaurant and Jack drove Phryne home to St Kilda. He escorted her from his car to her front door.

“Did you like the restaurant?” Jack asked as they reached the porch.

“I did. The food was divine. And the company was excellent,” she batted her eyelashes at him.

“It was,” said Jack, smiling shyly. He wrapped his arms around her waist as he kissed her once more. Phryne wrapped her arms up Jack’s back, inching him closer to her. Phryne wanted more. She wanted to drag him indoors and upstairs and ravish him repeatedly. But she sensed that Jack wasn’t quite ready for that yet and she didn’t want to ruin whatever they were becoming by rushing into things and forcing him into anything he wasn’t quite prepared for. As the kiss continued Phryne felt Jack push her gently against the door. She arched into him slightly.

After several minutes Phryne shivered and they broke apart. “You’re cold. I should let you get inside.” Jack said.

Phryne looked at him and considered her response. “Would you like to go to the cinema sometime?” she asked.

Jack smiled with relief. She wanted to see him again. And she’d asked him. Of course she had, he considered. He was becoming aware that she was always going to surprise him. “I would. When were you thinking?”

“Maybe Sunday? If you’re not working?” Phryne looked at him hopefully.

“Sunday evening? Yes.” He smiled again.

“I’ll, find out what’s on and text you?”

“I await your choice with anticipation.” Jack kissed her on the cheek, his lips lingering as he did so. “Good night, Phryne.”

“Good night, Jack,” she replied, pushing her key into the lock and opening the door. She watched Jack walk down the path before she pushed the door shut.

  
 

Moving upstairs and into her bedroom, Phryne collapsed onto the bed and curled up into a ball. She pulled out her phone and absently scrolled through her Twitter feed and Facebook Wall. She wanted to say something about tonight – talk about how much she had enjoyed herself, perhaps mention the restaurant. But it would lead to too many questions, and she didn’t want an inquisition just yet. She left a brief but glowing review on Tripadvisor instead; her username  was vague enough to be practically anonymous. She decided to text Jack.

 

**_I had a lovely time tonight. Thank you. Phryne xx_ **

 

 


	3. Thursday 26th May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're still kissing...

Jack had been starting to dress more casually every time they had gone out. He wore a suit, even if they were going to the cinema, although the suits had gone from very formal to more relaxed. He had shed the waistcoat, and then the tie, leading to Phryne spending the entirety of a dinner date staring at his Adam’s Apple and struggling to tamp down increasingly lustful feelings. Later that night she had pondered that this was ridiculous; how the sight of such a small amount of skin could make her quite so distracted.

Phryne could see that Jack was slowly becoming more comfortable spending time with her as _more than just a friend_. The goodbye kisses under Phryne’s porch had started to take longer, and there had been moments in first Jack’s car and then Phryne’s where windows had become steamed, but neither of them had taken the step to move matters to the bedroom. Every time they parted he was kissing her with more passion and less restraint, and yet physical matters between them still remained remarkably chaste.

Now, after their most recent dinner, they were standing on her front door step wrapped around each other. Jack was kissing her jawline and her neck and Phryne was trying to resist the urge to just drag Jack inside. Every time she saw him it was becoming harder to just let him walk away. She thought she kept seeing a look in his eyes that suggested it was becoming just as difficult for him.

As they stood under the porch kissing, Jack found himself wondering how Phryne might respond if he raised the subject of moving things inside. The thought of her boudoir terrified him a little, the whole possibility still felt a little quick to him, and he wasn’t actually sure whether Phryne wanted to, well, _move things inside_. Just because she was plainly very keen on the kissing didn’t necessarily mean she would want more, he reminded himself. Perhaps this was something they should talk about? Jack idly wondered how on earth he would begin that conversation.

Instead the issue of when they would next see each other arose.

“As much as I’d like to, I can’t see you this Saturday, I have to work. Collins and I will be on a stakeout.” Jack said, kissing her on the lips gently.

“How terribly exciting Jack,” said Phryne, moving her hands around his shoulders and back, “but don’t worry, I have a little case of my own to work on then, so I’m not available either.”

“Our jobs do require us to work anti-social hours don’t they?” Jack asked, pressing a kiss to her jawline, before nibbling her earlobe.

“They do indeed, but we do both understand, don’t we, that our lives don’t quite work to ‘normal’ timetables.” Phryne replied, pulling him back so that she could kiss his lips deeply, feeling Jack holding her more tightly as he responded to the warmth of her lips and the softness of her body.

 

They had both already become used to arrangements having to be somewhat fluid: Jack was becoming an expert on both making and cancelling restaurant reservations, and Phryne had installed an app on her iPhone with the listing times for every cinema within ten kilometers of both her house and Jack’s flat. They had seen late showings of films which had been surprisingly full, and early morning showings which were pleasingly empty. Dinners had sometimes been lunches, and so far they had managed to avoid running into anyone who might ask why they were out together socially. They were both agreed that the change between them was no business of anyone else’s, and for Phryne in particular the use of any sort of _label_ for Jack, such as ‘boyfriend’ or ‘partner’ made her profoundly uncomfortable.

Eventually, and reluctantly, they parted, agreeing that they might be able to meet on Sunday night, depending on how their respective cases evolved.

 

In the end, they did see each other on Saturday evening; just not quite in the way either of them would have imagined.

 

 


	4. Saturday Night, Sunday Morning  (Saturday 28th May - Sunday 29th May)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. Just what would the 21st Century equivalent of a fan dance be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This, I feel, is where the M rating starts to be valid...

At a little after two am on Saturday night, or more technically, early Sunday morning, Phryne pulled her Jag over on the far side of Hoddle Street and peered up to the first floor of the building opposite. The light in Jack’s flat was on and she turned into Hotham Street, and found a parking spot, adjusting her hair before hopping out of her car. She dashed across the main road, thankful that the traffic was almost non-existent and pressed the buzzer for his flat.

She hoped he would answer. She hoped he wasn’t angry. It had been so hard to tell earlier in the evening. Everything had happened so quickly, and it had been Hugh who had taken her statement whilst Jack had hauled his suspect out of the venue. He had glanced over his shoulder at her as he had left, in a manner which Phryne had been unable to quite place. She was prepared for a fight, and was prepared to restate to Jack exactly how little of his concern it was how she handled her cases.

“Hello?” Jack answered in a confused tone.

“Jack, it’s me, Phryne. Can I come up?” she shivered slightly in the late autumn cold.

There was no response but the front door made a clicking sound as the lock was released. Phryne hurried up the stairs and knocked on Jack’s door. She smoothed her jacket as she waited. Jack opened the door and leaned against the door frame. He had plainly only just got home from work. He had managed to remove his shoes and his socks, but had progressed no further in removing his policeman’s armour.

“You’re still dressed like a DI,” Phryne said, aiming for jovial.

“And you’re dressed.” Jack replied, in a tone that suggested he was very tired.

“I am indeed.” Phryne replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “May I come in?”

Jack stood back and gestured Phryne to come in, closing the door quietly behind her.

He hadn’t expected to see her again tonight. Hadn’t expected to see her tonight at all, and he’d had to tamp down his pleasure at seeing her with the fact of where she was, and the fact that he was technically at work. She had plainly been there as some sort of distraction, and Jack had felt curiously distracted himself.

There was a question which had been floating through Jack’s mind for several hours. Phryne’s statement, which he had read, had referred only to the facts which immediately concerned his suspect. He had felt an unexpected sense of pride at her ability to say just enough without saying more than she should. She had also managed not to compromise her own investigation, which he still knew almost nothing of. At least, he was assuming there actually was an investigation. He didn’t want to consider the possibility that she had lied to him. “What were you doing there?” he asked.

They moved into the living space and she threw her clutch bag towards the coffee table.

“I told you, I have a case I’m working on.” That was true. Her friend Sarah had concerns that she was being defrauded by a member of her staff, but was having difficulty tracking down the culprit, and was reluctant to accuse anyone directly. Sarah had drafted Phryne in to observe and find the answers she needed, and Phryne had decided to tackle the assignment in her own unique style.

“That was for your case?” asked Jack, with incredulity.

“Yes,” said Phryne, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms defiantly. She was waiting for him to become angry and was raising her defences pre-emptively.

Jack leant against the kitchen work top and took a sip from the glass of water he had just poured himself. “Your case somehow involves you performing in a burlesque club?”

“Yes.” Performing had seemed like an obvious approach to Phryne. No-one would look twice at a new performer. Well, they’d look, but not particularly at her face, which would give her an opportunity to undertake a full appraisal of the other staff and the clientele.

“To what I can only describe as a _sultry jazz_ version of ‘Toxic’ by Britney Spears?” Jack raised an eyebrow as he asked the question.

“Oh I’m so glad you could pick out the tune. I was concerned that the variation might make it too obscure.” It had been at bar sixteen of the track that the lighting state had altered and Phryne had spotted Jack, silhouetted in the entrance door. She had momentarily cursed to herself as she had continued her choreography. She knew he considered some of her case tactics to be imprudent. But she had already whipped off her skirt at that point, and the remainder of the crowd were indicating their approval, so continuing was really her only option.

Jack had been initially stunned, then incredulous, and lastly amused by the sight of Phryne on the stage. To him she was easily recognisable, even whilst wearing a blonde wig. He had made a mental note to always ask her where she was going to be working in the future, so that any incidents like tonight’s could be minimised. He smiled. “Well maybe I just have a very good ear.”

“Perhaps you do Jack.” She continued to lean against the wall, daring Jack to express his disapproval.

“Hmm. And this case involves you using the stage name ‘Miss Phoxy Heart’, according to the statement you gave Collins.”

“Everyone in that scene has a stage name, Jack. I did consider ‘Ophelia Dickens’, but I didn’t want to give any of the audience the wrong impression. ‘Phoxy Heart’ is about the least racy option anyone could ever have chosen. What would you go for?”

Jack choked at the thought of the rejected moniker. “I’m sorry?”

“If it was you performing, what name would you use?” Phryne fixed her eyes on Jack.

“I never would be performing Phryne.” Jack paused. “Impressive right hook as well, by the way.”

“Well thank you. My father has passed on _some_ useful skills.” The point at which the shady looking man at the bar had spotted Jack, visibly panicked and advanced towards the stage had come almost at the end of Phryne’s routine. All of her clothing, excepting the small knickers, had been removed and the feather boa which acted as her main accessory was carefully draped so as to obscure the audience’s view of her breasts.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Jack. How is your suspect?”

“Probably nursing a black eye. He could ask us to charge you with assault.”

“And if he does, I will be asking you to charge him with sexual assault and actual bodily harm. I was acting in self-defence.” Jack’s suspect had quickly scanned the room, noted that Jack and Hugh were blocking the main exit and plainly realised that the only other exit from the building lay behind the small raised performance area.

The heavy-set man had sprung in Phryne’s direction and grabbed onto her as he had simultaneously attempted to barge past her and force her into the path of the pursuing DI and visibly shocked Constable. Phryne had not been going to take such an affront without response and with no weapons available to hand, had resorted to bare-knuckle tactics. The punch had landed with a solid crunch, and Jack had tackled the suspect to the floor immediately. Jack had looked up from the ground, his suspect pinned beneath him, to see Phryne smiling down at him as her music faded out. ‘I know a lady wants to bring men to their knees, but this might be overkill,’ she had quipped to the stunned audience. The applause had lingered almost as long as her routine.

“I’m so sorry.” Jack looked concerned as he spoke.

“It’s not your fault he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. And that he tried to use me as a shield. And thought that he could just try and grope me.”

“Oh god, did he actually grope you?” Phryne noted that Jack looked slightly nauseated at the thought.

“Of course not, I got my punch in there before he could actually make contact. And he should be very relieved that I wasn’t armed.”

“Are you usually armed? That is not covered by your licence!” Jack was looking at her as if he was trying very hard to forget that he was a servant of the law.

“Only a rape alarm and a pepper spray. And sometimes there are lockpicks, which can be useful if a small stab of pain needs to be inflicted.” Phryne paused, Jack had not yet exploded and she thought he still looked remarkably calm. She spoke again, “so I felt that following up the right hook by hitting him in the chest with my corset was inspired, in the circumstances.”

“There was nowhere left for you to have concealed anything in that outfit. But yes, excellent corset.”

“And your thoughts on the remainder?” Phryne looked at him as if there had been nothing at all unusual about her ‘outfit’.

“My thoughts are mostly around the logistics of how the, erm….” Jack indicated towards Phryne’s breasts.

“Nipple tassels, Jack?”

“Indeed. How do they stay on?” Jack was genuinely intrigued as to how the small objects had remained perched on her breasts, covering her nipples. He had not actually been able to see anything that a gentleman should not have been able to see. He was coming to the realisation of exactly how unlike a gentleman he would like to be with her.

“Specialist glue product.”

“Does that hurt?”

“Not as much as a twenty stone man pelting into me at speed as he tries to run away from you.”

“Sorry again.”

“I’ve told you before, that suit is like a giant neon warning sign; ‘here come the cops’.”

“Well I don’t think I could get away with your approach.”

“Have you never fancied it Jack? It’s very liberating, and I’m sure with your levels of physical fitness that you’d be very good at it.”

“I’m very sure I’d not be comfortable performing a slow striptease in a room full of strangers.” Jack paused, but Phryne could tell he had more to add. “But I’m very intrigued to hear that you’ve thought about it,” he smouldered, leaning off from the countertop and taking a step towards Phryne. Jack could feel the atmosphere between them altering slightly. It really was very late, and they were very alone and she was looking at him with an expression that he interpreted as slight hunger.

“You’re not angry about this in the slightest, are you?” she asked, unfolding her arms and placing them behind her against the wall.

“I am slightly annoyed about the extra paperwork that your unexpected involvement is going to involve.”

“But you’re not annoyed about me pretending to be a burlesque performer?”

“Well it’s not something I know anything about, but you seemed to be very good.”

“I end up in not very much clothing.” It was a statement, and a declaration of defiance; a challenge to Jack to object if he dared.

“You do indeed. How many nights are you doing?”

“Why do you ask?” Phryne had countered, pursing her lips slightly. The question was blunt, and from Jack, somewhat unexpected. She could sense that something had shifted within him; he suddenly seemed to have much more of a physical presence than he ever had before.

“Well I’m not working every night this week, and I’d like to review your choreography, for musicality.”

“You know, some men would be perturbed by the thought of the woman they’re seeing cavorting around on stage like that.” Phryne locked eyes with him, trying to read his intent.

“The woman they’re seeing?” Jack had tilted his head slightly in consideration of that before continuing. It was a small step, but coming from Phryne it felt much bigger, an acknowledgement that they were _involved_. “Why would I ever try to stop you _cavorting_?”

“You honestly have no objection?”

Jack shrugged his shoulders. “You wouldn’t have been up there if you didn’t want to be. And I wouldn’t ask you not to. I’m, I’m just the bloke you’re seeing, Phryne. It doesn’t give me any sort of _ownership_ of you. Did you solve your case?”

Phryne tried not to show her shock, “Erm, I think so. I have to see Sarah tomorrow, ask her a couple of questions to make sure, but I hope I’ve observed correctly.”

“So no more performances then?” Jack asked as he took a further step towards her..

Phryne was sure she could hear an edge of disappointment in Jack’s question.

“Well perhaps I could be persuaded to offer you a private review opportunity?” she replied, somewhat more breathless than she had been aiming for.

“Maybe you could. Now, about these concealed weapons, _Miss Heart_ ” Jack said, in a manner which was quite unlike him. He leant his right forearm against the wall, holding himself mere inches from her.

She swallowed slowly. What had come over him? She was very intrigued. “I promise you I’m not concealing a thing,” said Phryne, adopting a slight American lilt to her voice,

“I’m quite sure you’re concealing a lot of things” said Jack, trying to remain calm. He wasn’t entirely sure what they were doing, but he found he wasn’t prepared to examine his actions too closely.

“Well then perhaps you’d care to frisk me, Inspector, just to be sure,” she said, low and deliberate. She slid her jacket off and threw it towards the coffee table. Underneath the jacket she was wearing an outfit that was attempting to fit in with her cover story. She lifted her hands above her head and held them against the wall. Her body curved slightly with the shift in movement, thrusting her breasts towards Jack as he slid his left hand around Phryne’s waist.

Jack scanned her quickly from head to toe and took in the entire ensemble, trying not to drool. This was not the outfit she had removed so slowly during her routine. The footwear was a pair of heeled brogues in red, which were laced with ribbons. Her legs were wrapped in what Jack took to be black and white horizontally striped tights. There was a black skirt which sat some inches above her knees, and a red overbust corset. Her hair had a black and white striped piece of material in it, some sort of ‘bohemian’ scarf arrangement, chosen to match the tights Jack wagered. She looked irresistible, which Jack supposed was the point.

“I should warn you,” Jack rumbled, in a tone of voice that was so deep it set off vibrations in Phryne’s stomach, “I am _very_ thorough in my personal searches.”

“Well I promise I’ll offer every assistance I can,” murmured Phryne, feeling her heartbeat accelerate.

Jack reminded himself that this was Phryne, and that she never did anything she didn’t want to. She was standing against his wall, in a pose that was very inviting and Jack decided that she would tell him to stop if he went too far. With no further plan other than to see what happened, he closed the final distance between them, and pressed his lips to Phryne’s. She maintained her stance but responded to the kiss. Jack swept his left hand around and up her back as they continued kissing. It quickly became somewhat sloppy and messy, and Jack tugged Phryne towards him slightly.

As Phryne separated from the wall entirely her hands fell, one into Jack’s hair and one onto his shoulder. She had no idea what had happened to make Jack so commanding, but she was very keen to discover how far they could take matters. She worked her hand underneath the edge of his jacket and forcefully pushed it off his shoulder. She swept her hand around to the other shoulder and repeated the action. Jack loosened first one arm and slid his jacket sleeve down, before swapping his hands and slipping the jacket off altogether. It hit the ground with a loud thud.

“What the hell is in there?” said Phryne breaking the kiss for a moment, her accent reverting to her normal standard.

“Warrant card, wallet, notebook, phone, handcuffs sometimes. Not important.” Jack responded, kissing her jawline as he answered. He pulled Phryne tighter to him and spun her around away from the wall. Her legs gently bumped into the back of the sofa and her hand in Jack’s hair slowly began to explore. She loved running her fingers through Jack’s hair, but tonight she was loosening the remaining gel as she went, throwing Jack’s shackles of ‘Inspector’ as she went.

Phryne pushed herself up onto the top of the sofa, using it like a ledge. She wrapped her legs around Jack’s waist and tried to contain herself as he kissed her neck, suckling against her soft skin. He ran a hand down her leg, encouraging Phryne to bend it upwards until he found the ribbon on her boot. He carefully worked the knot free and delicately removed the boot, taking care not to hurt her foot then repeated the action with the other boot and dropped it to the floor. Phryne smiled as Jack ran his hands up her legs. She could feel her arousal building already. She tried not to thrust herself against his crotch: it would be unseemly, but she wanted him so desperately.

Phryne made short work of Jack’s tie, and threw it behind her where it landed on his coffee table. They continued kissing as Jack pressed himself closer to her and Phryne’s legs opened wider to accommodate him. As he once again moved to nuzzle her neck, Phryne made a quick assessment of the furniture. Placing one hand on the back of the sofa, she gripped her legs around Jack’s hips, wrapped her other hand around his back and whispered into his ear, “Hold on Jack.” She swung around and backwards, onto the sofa itself, landing with aplomb and pulled Jack down on top of her.

Jack held himself up, his arm muscles tensing as he hovered above her. Phryne shifted her leg which was nearest the back of the sofa, resting her foot on top of the cushions. She moved her other leg, deliberately brushing her toes along Jack’s thigh before resting her calf gently over his. She could feel that Jack was _interested_ in the situation. They resumed kissing, the movement of their lips and tongues becoming more frenzied and less careful. Phryne made quick work of the buttons on Jack’s waistcoat as his mouth progressed downwards, reaching the edge of her breasts. He kissed her warm skin delicately as his thumb brushed across the soft mounds which were squeezed together by the corset.

Jack wondered how the hell he could remove the corset without being too clumsy. He casually wondered how many corsets she owned, given that this was the second one he had seen her wearing this evening. From his exploration of her back, he could feel the lacing of the strings, but felt there must be an easier way. He decided this would need his focused attention for a few moments and broke off his kisses.

Leaning his weight back into his legs he partially knelt up, pushing his body upwards by pushing up from the sofa through his hand. “Now Miss Heart, what do we have here? I would imagine that this boning could be a weapon, in the right circumstances.” He tried to sound authoritative. It was very difficult, given that he could feel himself hardening, his waistcoat was half hanging off him, his shirt was untucked and he was generally in a state of disarray.

“And what circumstances would those be, Inspector?” Phryne drawled, as she quickly moved her hands to the bottom of her corset and pinched the lowest stud and eye together. Phryne was surprisingly aroused and determined that assisting Jack was only reasonable – corsets were tricky at the best of times.

“Many and varied, Miss Heart, many and varied.” Jack bent forward and kissed the top of her breasts again. He slowly released the remaining studs and eyes, swiping the palm of his hand across Phryne’s flat stomach as he worked upwards. With one set of fastenings remaining he brushed the pad of his thumb across the underside of her breasts. Feeling very sure that he was about to cross a major line, he trembled slightly as his fingers squeezed the final stud and eye together and the corset slithered from his grasp, falling loosely open.

Phryne bent her hand back and pulled the corset from underneath her, shifting her hips upwards slightly towards Jack as she freed the garment and tossed it onto the floor. She watched as his pupils dilated and he fixed her with a look of absolute hunger.

Jack slid his free hand across Phryne’s skin. It was so soft. “Specialist glue product?” he asked, quietly.

“Umm” was all Phryne could manage, as Jack bent forwards and suckled on her nipple. The swiftness and certainty of Jack’s actions took her momentarily by surprise. His fingers splayed around the side of her delicate mound, stroking her flesh.

Jack swirled his tongue over Phryne’s nipple and tried not to groan too loudly. He shifted his weight back into his thighs and slid the hand which had been supporting his weight underneath Phryne’s back, holding her firmly. As he lifted his mouth from her nipple he blew lightly, and was delighted both when the peak hardened and when Phryne gasped and then arched her back once more, offering her breasts to him. He switched his attentions to her other breast, dipping his mouth once more. He tweaked the hardened peak as he sucked on the offered nipple. He cast his eyes upwards and was overjoyed to note that Phryne had her head thrown back slightly, her mouth forming a small ‘O’ shape. He smiled and hummed and Phryne took a sharp intake of breath at the feeling of the sensation.

Jack shifted his weight and released Phryne’s breast with a pop of his lips. He levered himself upwards and pressed his lips to hers once more. Phryne undid the final buttons of Jack’s waistcoat and ran her hands around his back and across his chest as they continued kissing, deepening their exploration of each other.

Phryne had unbuttoned several of the buttons on Jack’s shirt and was untucking the garment from his trousers when she felt his hand move to her skirt. She felt her breath stutter as his hand moved lower and brushed her leg. Jack’s fingers danced around the hemline of her skirt before tentatively swirling small circles underneath the very edge of the material. Phryne made no attempt to stop him. As Jack moved to kiss her cheek, her jawline and her neck, she moaned softly. Finally, _finally_ they were going to have sex, she could tell. She had wanted him for so long, and she could feel them teetering on the brink of that final step. She was also very aware that she was already remarkably close to a climax. She supposed it was partially the anticipation making her more responsive than she would have otherwise expected.

Jack’s fingers rotated around her leg and moved upwards somewhat decisively. He encountered bare flesh and Phryne felt him shudder. He broke off his gentle nuzzling of her neck.

“What are you wearing?” he asked, swallowing slowly.

“Thigh high socks.”

“Oh god.” He blinked furiously. “Do you always wear those?”

“Not always Jack,” Phryne rumbled, deeply, “sometime tights, or hold-ups, or stockings, or sometimes, nothing at all.”

He had swallowed nervously at that, but she noted, had kept his hand where it was. His thumb was gently stroking the inside of her thigh. They returned to kissing and Phryne began to undo the remaining buttons on Jack’s shirt, pressing warm kisses to his jawline as she moved her fingers. She freed the top buttons and swept her fingertips inside the collar line to feel his skin. Jack rotated his hand and continued his path upwards, his thumb making contact with the material of her knickers as Phryne’s other hand dragged through Jack’s hair, her nails scraping his scalp. He moaned, deep and low and Phryne moved to undo the last button of Jack’s shirt.

Phryne felt Jack brush a nail against the edge of her knickers, where they lay along the crease between her body and her leg. Then he brushed the fabric aside and she sighed as the pad of his thumb made contact with her labia. She smiled with the awareness of what was to come.

Jack heard her sighs and tentatively swept a finger upwards through her folds, finding her clitoris. He lightly swept his finger over the sensitive bud in a figure of eight shape, before switching to circles, loops and swirls.

“Oh god,” panted Phryne, quietly, knowing that she was already close to the point of orgasm. She moved her hand from his shirt, sweeping downwards and brushing the back of her fingers across the front of his trousers. She smiled as she traced the outline of the obvious bulge. It seemed like Jack was going to be a lot of fun. She stroked her fingers down the contour of his length.

Jack suddenly pushed himself upwards and his hand paused in its movements. Everything was suddenly very real and Phryne was doing wicked things with her fingers.

“Phryne, what are we doing?” Jack asked. Phryne was sure she could hear a note of panic in his tone.

Phryne blinked, and took a moment before she spoke. “You’re absolutely right Jack. Where do you keep your condoms?”

“Erm, err, what? Sorry?” he spluttered. His eyes were suddenly practically on stalks.

“We’re going to have sex, Jack. So condoms. Where do you keep them?” she asked again, stroking him once more through the material of his trousers. Phryne was eager to actually see Jack in all his glory.

“I don’t have any,” he blurted out. Jack felt his mind spinning.

Silence fell between them for a moment, “Do you have any?” he asked in a somewhat high-pitched tone.

“No. Wrong bag.” She practically spat the words out. She threw her head back onto the arm of the sofa and released a moan of frustration, crying out in exasperation. They looked at each other for a moment before Phryne spoke again. “Why don’t you have any?” she said, and threw him a look which suggested he should answer very carefully. The slight pressure of her fingers on his cock was any even more obvious clue as to the care he needed to exercise.

“Erm, er, oh god” he swallowed thickly, “I, that is I mean, I didn’t want to make any assumptions. And, erm, even if I had, maybe, hoped that we might, I didn’t think it would be quite this spontaneous. I thought we’d be at your house, and, you’d have invited me upstairs.” The expression on his face was like a startled rabbit who had been caught in headlights.

“So you have no objections to them, then? Condoms, I mean?” Phryne pressed, both the point and her pressure on him.

“None whatsoever.” Jack replied. His mind was struggling to focus. Phryne wanted to have sex. With him. Right now. He’d considered it of course; the thought of him and Phryne. He’d considered it in some detail. But it had always seemed such an abstract possibility, and as she had not pushed the subject during the last few weeks when they had been saying goodnight he had not allowed himself to consider the prospect that they might find themselves in this situation. The thought of contraception had never even occurred to him. He was snapped back to reality by Phryne now wickedly stroking a finger along his ever hardening cock. This would become a worrying situation if they continued.

Phryne huffed, “Well, good. OK. But that doesn’t solve the problem we now find ourselves with. Gargh,” she moaned in frustration. “This is not fair” she wailed, mentally chiding herself for her lack of preparedness. Jack looked at her in utter confusion. “I was going to get to know. Finally. We were going to...”

“Why me?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Why me, Phryne? You could have any man in the world, so why me?” he stroked her cheek as he tried desperately to tamp down his desire. He hoped the pause in their activities would allow him some time to compose himself.

Phryne paused and considered. She could tell him it was because he was clever and kind and gentle and honest, and that his arse was bloody fantastic, but he looked so utterly convinced that she could not really want him. She felt her heart rise into her mouth and spoke carefully, “Because I can be myself with you. I don’t have to hide. You know me, and my family, and my past, and my life now, and I don’t have to hide any of it from you. You know my faults and you accept them. And you haven’t asked me to change my life for you. Not at all.” She smiled at him and saw his worry fall away. “And you are ridiculously good looking.”

Jack sat up even more at that and raised an eyebrow that suggested he did not quite believe her. “Seriously, Jack, you’re very handsome.” And with that she pulled him down to her and pressed a searing kiss to his lips. She felt his cock once more hardening and growing and whimpered to herself in disappointment. Jack sat up once more.

“Phryne. You are incredible. And I would like nothing more than to make love, right now. But plainly, that isn’t to be.” Jack was trying very hard not to sound utterly downhearted.

Phryne said nothing but grimaced with what Jack took to be frustration. He made an impulsive decision and spoke again. “But do you have any objection if we carry on where we were?”

“What?”

“I mean, if you could remove your hand from my cock, because that is really very distracting. But other than that…” Jack was trying for direct and attempted to remain calm as Phryne peeled her hand from his trousers, brushing his arousal as she went.

“What about you?” asked Phryne, and Jack wasn’t sure whether he could hear disappointment or curiosity in her tone.

He briefly closed his eyes before he spoke, “I’ll, erm, deal with that later?”

“Oh. If you’re sure?” Phryne’s mind briefly wandered to how she would very much like to watch him _deal with that later_. Perhaps another time. She was snapped back to the present by Jack murmuring in her ear.

“I swear to god Phryne, I would much rather hear you moan with pleasure than leave both of us horribly frustrated.”

“You’re terribly confident Jack.”

He tilted his head slightly and smiled. “Well you’re very keen, Phryne.” He said, sweeping his finger back inside her knickers, noting how damp she now was. Jack swiftly withdrew his fingers, pulled his hand to his mouth and sucked his own fingers. “Hmm, very keen” he smouldered.

Phryne’s mouth dropped open. “Jack Robinson! You did not just do that!” The shock of his action made her damper still and she felt her breath hitch.

“Hmm. And as keen as you are right now, I think we can improve on that.” Jack added. His hand travelled back to her leg, his fingers skittering up to the top of her striped sock. Phryne expected his hand to continue its journey upwards, and was surprised when instead his fingers worked their way into the top of her sock and firmly pushed it down her leg. Jack tossed the sock to the floor and reached for Phryne’s other leg, repeating the action. Before he could move his hands back to anywhere more intimate, Phryne managed to speak.

“Fair’s fair Jack, get these off” she said, starting to wrestle with his shirt and waistcoat.

He obliged, throwing the pieces of cloth over the back of the sofa. Phryne took Jack in and sighed with lust. The photos from the cycle race had given some hint, but it turned out the lycra itself had been hiding a very well developed torso, and arms that were just solid enough without being over-built. Jack smiled slightly as he noticed Phryne’s pupils dilate and adjusted himself so that he was virtually lying on top of her.

Pressing himself down he kissed Phryne firmly. They both moaned as they deepened the kiss. Phryne’s hands worked their way to Jack’s back. He was all solid but lean muscle and she could not help but moan again. Her hands made sweeping motions, trying to pull him closer to her. She was struck with the realisation that this was rather like being a teenager again, but without the fear of being interrupted by anyone. She felt herself relaxing and sinking slightly into the sofa as Jack broke off their kiss and moved down to nuzzle her neck.

His hand slipped up her skirt again and deftly pushed the material of her knickers aside. Phryne whimpered as she pulled Jack to her and began to nibble at his jawline and kiss his neck. As Jack swirled around her clit once more he hummed. She was really very wet, and he was sure he felt her hips thrust towards him slightly as he increased the pressure on her once more. Feeling unable to focus on so many sensations, Phryne tipped her head back and allowed Jack to continue. How was he managing to bring her so close already? He twisted his wrist and used two fingers to spread her folds. With considerably more confidence that he was feeling he slipped one finger inside her welcoming, slick warmth. In her highly aroused state Jack could feel her inner walls already beginning to pulse slightly. He thrust another finger inside her and began to gently strum his fingers, applying his thumb to the task of stroking her clit. He dipped his mouth and teased a nipple once more, swirling with his tongue and tugging very gently with his teeth. Phryne gasped and he sucked smoothly at the mound, his free hand caressing her other breast.

Phryne felt Jack stroke his fingernail down the side of her ribs. The sensation when combined with Jack’s other attentions tipped her over the edge and she felt herself clench around his fingers as she yielded to a climax that hit her considerably quicker and more forcefully than she had been anticipating. Her splayed hand dug into Jack’s back and she gasped in surprised pleasure as she felt herself come.

Jack felt Phryne gripping him and felt her clench onto his fingers, buried within her. He stilled those fingers as he felt her climax hit, but cheekily stroked her sensitive bud as she rode out her wave. The sound that emitted from her mouth was the most blissful noise Jack had heard in a very long time. He smiled to himself, and experienced a slight swell of pride as Phryne calmed underneath him. He kissed her lightly on the mouth as he carefully removed his fingers and her eyes fluttered open. He wasn’t sure if the look on her face was partially one of surprise.

“Oh, Jack!” she exclaimed, her mind somewhat of a whirl.

Jack smiled at her, “You all right?”

“Uh hmm,” was the response she managed, nodding minutely.

“OK, good,” he said, stroking his fingers down her arm. He became acutely aware of quite how hard his erection was. He had a problem in that Phryne was virtually naked underneath him, and was stirring and stretching slightly, which was only making his predicament worse. Pushing down a growing sense of embarrassment, he carefully sat up, taking care not to hurt Phryne.

“Jack?” she asked, confused by the loss of his warm skin against hers.

“I will be right back. Please just, stay here.” He gestured at her with his hands.

She moved to push herself to sit up, “Jack?” she was very confused.

“I will honestly be, at a guess, no more than two minutes. And then I will be right back. Please, please, don’t go anywhere.” Jack stood up, and with as much haste as was possible, bolted for his bathroom.

 

He shut the door behind him and looked around in exasperation. He grabbed the nearest hand towel to try to clean off the residue of _Phryne_ which was coating his fingers. He briefly looked at himself in the mirror. He sighed, heavily, and placed the towel on the edge of the vanity unit, knowing he’d need it to clean up shortly. It would be fair to say that he had done this quite a few times whilst thinking of Phryne, especially recently, but he hadn’t had to be this furtive about the whole exercise since he had been a teenager. Cursing his own biology he unfastened his trousers and took himself in hand. He stroked himself, firmly, once, twice, three times. On his fourth stroke he twisted his hand and shoved the fingers of his other hand into his mouth to try to silence his cry. They still tasted of Phryne and he moaned as he came.

 

On the sofa Phryne sat up, looking confused. She heard movement from the bathroom and then a somewhat muffled cry. She had a dawning moment of realisation and tried not to let her mind wander too greatly. She cursed that she had not had any protection with her. A few weeks ago, had she been going out, even just for work, she would have had condoms in her bag. After all, one never knew how an evening could develop. But since Jack and her had started to explore a relationship, and since Jack had plainly been wanting to take things slowly, she had not been packing the same range of items in her handbag. This evening would have concluded very differently if either of them had been more foresighted. Wondering how late it now was, she glanced around the living area, noticing that the microwave was declaring it to be almost three am.

 

In the bathroom Jack wiped himself off and threw the now heavily soiled hand towel into the washing machine, leaning his weight onto the unit for a moment to calm himself down and recover. He took a deep breath in and out, tucked himself in and re-fastened his trousers. Praying that Phryne wouldn’t ask too many questions, and fearing that she would, he returned to the lounge.

 

“Better?” Phryne asked, trying to skirt around the subject.

“Erm, yes,” replied Jack, leaning against the back of the sofa.

“Right, OK,” said Phryne, shivering slightly.

“Are you cold?” asked Jack.

“Umm, a little. Even if I put the corset back on, it doesn’t really offer much warmth,” she said, attempting to maintain a light tone.

Jack leant over and kissed Phryne on the cheek. “I’ll get you a jumper,” he whispered, and darted through to the bedroom. He grabbed the first one he could find and bounded back to the main room.

The sight of Phryne sitting on his sofa, waiting for him in just her skirt with no embarrassment and no signs of regret, was making him feel fuzzily happy. He moved towards her and handed her the jumper which she pulled on. He continued his path around the back of the sofa, retrieving his shirt and waistcoat from the floor. He draped them over the back of the sofa and moved over to his kitchen to retrieve his glass of water. He looked over at Phryne, the jumper was his Abbotsford hoodie, and the sleeves were far too long for her. She looked delectable. She was smoothing the jumper down as Jack sat back down on the sofa next to her and offered her the glass of water.

“Thanks,” she said, taking a drink and holding onto the glass. Jack fumbled with his shirt, pulling it on but leaving it unbuttoned. He ran his hand down Phryne’s skirt, stroking her thigh softly. Phryne turned her head towards him and raised an eyebrow. “What are you thinking?”

“Mostly wondering what time Priceline opens on a Sunday,” said Jack, deciding he might as well be honest.

“Really Jack? And why would that be?” she asked, deciding to tease him.

“Well you know, I need some paracetamol.” Jack said with an absolutely straight face.

“Anything else?”

Jack looked at Phryne, who was giving him one of her looks that he recognised as ‘challenging’. “Well I was thinking it might be time to buy some condoms.”

“Yes. I think it probably is.”

“Any preferences?” Jack’s mind was whirling. This was probably the most direct conversation he had ever had about contraception. He was coming to realise that Phryne was very blunt in her discussions.

“Well I wouldn’t bother with the flavoured ones. Although the minty ones can be lovely and tingly, so bear that in mind.”

“Right.” He was trying to focus, he really was, but the evening’s developments had greatly distracted him.

“Jack? How long is it since you last bought condoms?” Phryne’s natural nosiness had been piqued, and some maths based around her knowledge of condom expiry dates and Jack’s marriage falling apart was making her curious. She could also see that he was slightly bewildered. She ran her fingers up and down his thigh in order to distract him.

Jack was trying to focus on too many things at once. He did the calculation and spoke automatically, “About twelve years.”

“Twelve years?” Phryne was agog. “You’ve been divorced for eighteen months.”

“Yes.” Jack was failing to grasp the unasked question.

Taking his hand in hers Phryne asked, “Jack, who was the last person you had sex with?” She had realised that bluntness was going to have to continue to be the way forward.

“Rosie, obviously,” replied Jack, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I did say that I hadn’t found anyone other than you that I wanted to ask out.”

“ _Asking out_ is one thing Jack. Not even a one night stand to, well, take the edge off?”

“Erm, not my style Phryne.”

“Right.” She was astounded. Phryne imagined that she would have exploded if it had been that long for her. Jack really did have the greatest self-control of any man she knew.

“And I’m not going to ask you how recently it was for you, because that feels ungentlemanly.” Jack had resigned himself to the fact that Phryne had considerable more experience than him, and had also determined that he did not need to know about any of it. It felt somehow easier to deal with that way.

“Oh.” She paused and squeezed Jack’s hand tighter. “I would like to reassure you, Jack, that I have always been sensible.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.”

“I’m on the Pill.”

“OK.”

“Which obviously only deals with a fraction of the possible consequences.”

“Obviously.”

“Which is why I am very insistent on condoms as well.”

“Right. And I’m absolutely fine with that.” Jack took the glass of water from Phryne’s hand and took a large mouthful. He swallowed slowly before he spoke again, “Marriage makes things a bit, well, different.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“I mean, you make certain decisions, together, and you make certain assumptions. And it’s all fine. You know, until the point where you realise your ex-wife’s been unfaithful.” Jack was trying to keep his tone light.

Phryne could feel the hurt in Jack’s voice. There was a small quiver underlying his words. She felt she needed to reassure him about some things, and he was plainly too polite to ask. “I’m never _unfaithful_ , Jack. There are, historically, some chaps who’ve, how can I put this, had more than one chance with me? _Paid a return visit,_ as it were. And some that one would perhaps term ‘friends with benefits’? But, to be metaphorical about it Jack, it’s a conveyor belt, not a revolving door. Because I’ve observed that things can get, well, messy otherwise.”

Jack’s jaw dropped open. “Well. That is a metaphor.”

Phryne took the glass back from him and drained the contents. “Jack. Go and buy some condoms. And put some in your wallet. Because I have a feeling that at some point we are going to want to get carried away.”

“OK.” Jack smiled slightly. He suddenly remembered his manners. “It’s very late. Would you like to stay?”

“Stay?”

“Just to sleep, obviously.” He quickly added.

Phryne considered her answer carefully. “Whilst I admire your sense of valour, Jack, I suspect that if I stayed I could become somewhat lustfully compromised. And besides, don’t you have work tomorrow? Well, later this morning?”

“Well I questioned the suspect after the medic had seen him. I’ll need to follow up at some point, but the blokes in booking will be dealing with processing him in the morning. He was asking for his brief, and it’ll take a bit to raise whoever that is on a Sunday, so, yes, I’ll go in around lunchtime.” Jack paused and ran his fingertips down her thigh, fondling her knee in a manner which Phryne felt should not make her feel as warm as it did. Jack cautiously continued, “Do you have to leave right now? Because there’s a good nine hours before I have to be there. By which point I’ll be able to see whether you’ve managed to inflict a black eye on him.”

“I hope I have Jack. His interruption to my routine came at a crucial moment.”

“How unforgivable.” said Jack, noting that Phryne had placed the glass on the floor and was batting her eyelashes at him once more. “I do hope you didn’t have to compromise your artistic integrity.”

“Well,” said Phryne, levering herself over Jack to straddle his lap, “he did deny me the chance to see if I’d managed to perfect the twirling of my tassels.” Phryne wrapped her arms around Jack’s neck and sank down onto his thighs.

“Now that is untenable,” said Jack, running one hand up to sit on Phryne’s waist, allowing the other one to stroke her side gently.  He ran a hand across her thigh and gazed up at her with hooded eyes.

Phryne leant forward and kissed Jack once more, “I suppose I could stay for a little while.”

“Oh good” said Jack, pulling her down to him and kissing her forcefully. As Phryne felt Jack’s hand run under his jumper, his fingers sliding across her back, she gripped him more tightly and matched the force of his kiss.

 

She left his flat at a little after four am, thoroughly sated.

  


When Jack woke the next morning, he found a text on his phone:

_**Don’t know which one you’re thinking of, but both Pricelines in Richmond open at 9am! xx Phryne** _

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who isn't Australian (and especially any Americans, where it is something *very* different), 'Priceline' is an Australian-wide chain of pharmacy stores.


	5. Tuesday 31st May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why Jack Robinson, you are full of surprises...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I shuffle Jack off to The Domain Gardens fairly frequently? Because they're about a three minute walk from the St Kilda Road Police Station complex, very pretty and I think it would be the sort of thing Jack would do - just remove himself slightly from the office to think about cases or to make personal phone calls.

Jack glanced at his watch and noted that it was lunchtime. He stood up from behind his desk, patted his pockets to ensure he had his phones and his wallet, and strode out of his office heading towards The Domain Gardens. This was very definitely not a conversation he wanted to have in his office.

He scrolled through his contacts list, stopping at ‘Phryne – personal’. He smiled at the picture of her in his T-shirt; he really did like her wearing his clothes. He tapped the phone number, put the phone to his ear and waited for her to answer.

“Hello, Jack. Is this business or personal?” Phryne answered the phone in a tone that Jack interpreted as flirtatious.

“Hello. It’s personal. But how’s Phoxy Heart?”

Phryne laughed at that. “Retired. I had solved the case. And my friend Sarah needs a new Assistant Manager.”

“Oh dear.”

The line had gone quiet, as Jack tried to decide how best to move the conversation forward.

“Jack?” Phryne asked, conscious herself that silence had fallen.

“Hmm? Yes.” Jack cleared his throat, now or never, he thought. “I wondered whether you’d like to come for dinner on Friday?”

“Yes. Were you thinking of anywhere in particular?”

“Mine? And maybe, you _could_ stay. If you wanted to.” Jack forced himself to stop talking and wait for a reply.

Phryne was stunned into momentary silence. “Stay?”

“Yes. I’d really like you to. If you wanted.”

Phryne cast her mind back to the previous weekend. Things had escalated on Jack’s sofa. Phryne was fairly sure that this call was an invitation to Jack’s bedroom. And not, this time, merely for sleeping.

Phryne didn’t usually do ‘staying’. There were occasions, obviously, when an evening’s activities could continue unabated until the morning, but ‘breakfast’ or other such pleasantries rarely occurred. Reminding herself that she was trying to alter her behaviour as far as Jack was concerned, and realising that this was a big step for Jack she replied positively.

“Well. Yes. That sounds delightful. What time?”

“Seven?”

“Shall I bring anything?”

“Maybe some wine?”

“OK.”

“OK. I’ll see you then. Bye.” and with that, Jack hung up.

Phryne stared at the screen in disbelief. After everything, Jack Robinson had just propositioned her. And with three days’ notice. Less spontaneous indeed, she thought! Phryne was beginning to suspect that Jack did have a seduction plan after all.

 

 


	6. Friday 3rd June

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> M rating ahoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VLA is Victoria Legal Aid, a scheme which gives legal representation to people who need it but can't afford it. When Kerry Greenwood isn't writing books, she does some work for them.

Jack had spent the day in The Supreme Court, giving evidence in a case from late last year. The Defence had been unable to find any holes whatsoever in the Prosecution evidence and Jack had left William Street with a sense of optimism. It was just late enough that he could go straight home to get ready for the evening.

He was slightly nervous if he was honest with himself. The sight of Phryne falling apart around his fingers last Saturday night had sparked within him a desire he had long been tamping down.

The following morning he had spent twenty minutes in the Priceline slightly further away from his flat, where he had considered the dizzying array of contraception on display on the shelves. He had scanned the options: packets of three; packets of twelve; packets of twenty four; mixed assortments; packets that included a vibrating cock ring; flavours; somewhat large tubes of lube, all stared at him silently. Jack focused his attention towards the tamer end of the display and furrowed his brow in consideration. He imagined Phryne was quite enthusiastic in bed, and he briefly wondered how high her expectation levels would be. In the end, he had decided to be optimistic, and had purchased 12 ‘regular’, 12 ‘ribbed and dotted’ and 3 ‘minted’. He wasn’t sure about those, but Phryne had used the word ‘tingly’ and smiled when she did, so he was willing to give them a go.

After getting the tram from Court straight to his flat, he had arrived home just after Five pm.  It was now 6.45pm, and he had showered, changed and donned an apron over his clothes whilst he prepared dinner. This part, he would admit, he had planned quite carefully. He was making lasagne, which would be served with a salad, and, if he got his timings right it would be in the oven before Phryne arrived, but would need long enough to bake that he would be able to indulge in kissing Phryne repeatedly before the food was ready to be served.

Still not wanting to assume that having sex with Phryne was a foregone conclusion, but knowing now that she could become very keen very quickly, he had peeled the cellophane from the condom packets and made space in his bedside table. On Phryne’s instructions he was also carrying two in his wallet. Jack would have wondered in what circumstances they would get so carried away that he would need immediate access, but that was before last weekend. Now he was fairly sure that if either of them had been slightly more prepared, they’d have fucked on his sofa. Jack found himself wondering how sexually adventurous Phryne was, and how staid his sex life had been in comparison. Very, he suspected.

The door buzzer sounded. Jack quickly scanned the room as he moved over to press the button to allow Phryne access to the building. He had found an online music streaming site and had set up a selection of jazz and swing numbers at an unobtrusive volume. Candles had been a consideration, but he had decided that it felt like a step too far, and had instead opted for utilising just some of his lighting instead. The room was bathed in a soft glow from a couple of side lamps, and being very optimistic, the lamp in the bedroom was already on.

There was a light tap at his door. Jack took a deep breath in, and out, and opened the door. Phryne smiled at him, clutching a bottle of wine in one hand, a somewhat over-sized handbag dangling from the elbow of her other arm. She was wearing black jeans and a sheer blouse with irregular black spots forming a pattern of sorts. Underneath the blouse was a vest top in dark red. The heels were back to death-defying heights. The knuckles on the hand holding the wine were white.

“Hi,” said Phryne. She quickly appraised him: black jeans, dark red shirt, a blue and white checked apron. She tried not to think about the fact that their outfits were very similar. He looked very handsome and not at all like a policeman. Phryne did enjoy Jack the man; he was so passionate, and somewhat romantic.  The music she could hear playing in the background suggested that _romance_ was definitely on Jack’s mind.

“Hi,” responded Jack, swallowing nervously. He had no idea how she managed to always look so effortlessly well-dressed, no matter the occasion or outfit. He allowed his mind to flit back to the two outfits he had seen her wearing last Saturday. Even the burlesque costume had been remarkably well put-together and carefully thought through. He stood back from the door to usher her inside. “Come in.”

“Something smells good,” Phryne smiled as Jack shut the door behind her as she turned and thrust the bottle of wine towards him. “You didn’t say what we were having. I hope this is okay?”

“I’m sure it will be fine.” Jack took the bottle from her, placing it on the kitchen countertop. Phryne moved further into the lounge, placing her handbag on the coffee table. She began to remove her jacket, and Jack’s natural politeness kicked in as he stepped over to assist her. Sliding his hands down her arms from her shoulders he helped her to remove the jacket, Phryne turning to face him as she freed first one arm and then the other. She smiled at Jack, and he wondered whether she was as nervous as he currently felt. They both remained where they were, staring at each other. Suddenly Jack worried that this might seem too premeditated.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” he blurted, attempting to break the tension.

“Um, hmm,” murmured Phryne, incoherently. She nodded her head in an attempt to convey that, yes, a glass of wine would be marvellous.

“OK.” Jack moved a step back and moved to hang up Phryne’s jacket. He placed it in the cupboard by his front door and tried not to allow himself to become overwhelmed merely by the sight of her coat nestled alongside his.

“What’s for dinner?” asked Phryne.

“Lasagne.” Replied Jack, smiling as he distracted himself with the task of opening and pouring the wine. He handed a glass to Phryne, noting that she lightly stroked his fingers as he did. “If you’re having the wine, does that mean you’re staying?” He was suddenly plagued by insecurity.

Taking a huge gulp of her wine, Phryne replied. “I am. I mean, if you still want me to?”

“God yes. I mean, yes, that would be, nice.”

“I rather hope it’s more than nice, Jack.”

A look of fear mixed with panic crossed Jack’s face. Before he could compose a response, the timer on the cooker buzzed. “Food’s ready.”

“OK. I’m just going to, nip to the bathroom. Back in a sec.” and Phryne practically sprinted for the small room at the far end of the flat.

On his own now, Jack gently beat his head against the door of the fridge in exasperation, extracted the Lasagne from the oven to allow it to rest for a minute and poured himself a glass of wine from which he took a generous glug. He should have kissed her, he thought, cursing his reserve. She seemed nervous. Maybe, now she’d had almost a week to think about it, she didn’t want to have sex with him. But she was staying, she’d said. Jack groaned slightly to himself in confusion and frustration.

In the bathroom, Phryne was staring at herself in the mirror, giving herself a talking to. “Come on, calm down… Why am I this nervous? I should have kissed him. That would have broken the tension… Oh god, why didn’t he kiss me? Maybe he’s gone off the idea and he’s just too bloody polite to say anything?.. It’s just Jack… Oh god, it’s Jack… Come on, you know what you’re doing. He plainly knows what he’s doing. It’ll be fine… Oh god, please let him not be crap in bed. _Please_.” She looked at herself in the mirror and adjusted her top. “It’s just food. And sex. Sexy, sexy, sex. Probably.” She huffed out a breath and attempted to calm herself down. “And you’re not a shrinking bloody wallflower either. You can seduce him. It’s what you’d do with any other man… But he’s not any other man is he?.. Oh, _come on_ , Phryne.” And with that, she ran some water to wash her hands, and emerged moments later into the main living space.

Smiling brightly at Jack, who was now leaning against the kitchen countertop, and who still looked nervous, she decided to move over and stand beside him. “Is there any chance, Jack, that we are both somewhat nervous about this evening?”

“Why are you nervous?”

“I’m not sure.” She paused and looked away as she spoke again. “This suddenly seems all very serious.”

Jack snorted slightly. “I think it only has to be as serious as we let it be. And I can’t tell you how much I’d just like to have some fun, Phryne.”

Phryne recalled everything Jack had drunkenly told her the evening of her Christmas party almost 18 months ago. It sounded like he hadn’t had any _fun_ for quite some time, and she knew now that there hadn’t been anyone since Rosie. She wondered how he didn’t seem significantly more nervous. “Fun sounds, well, fun.”

Jack swallowed slowly. “It does, but I’m really not presuming anything about this evening, Phryne.” He said, turning his head to look at her.

“Jack, you may well have the self-restraint of a sainted monk, but I do not. I want you, Jack. And you really need to start having more confidence in yourself.”

Feeling that the statement was both an invitation and a challenge, Jack turned his head to look at her and decided it was time to embrace his resolution to kiss Phryne at every opportunity which presented itself. He slid his right arm along the surface Phryne was leant against, reaching behind her, and rotated his hand so that his fingers splayed across her waist. Swallowing again, he noticed Phryne’s eyes dilate slightly. With a flick of his wrist that surprised himself with its own assuredness, he spun her around towards him, and caught her with his left hand on her waist.

Phryne raised an eyebrow and slightly pursed her lips as Jack gazed at her with a sudden intensity which took her by surprise. He loosened his left hand, and ran his fingers up her spine, noting that she appeared to stutter slightly at his touch. He allowed himself the merest hint of a smile. As he pulled Phryne infinitesimally closer to him, he could feel her breathing becoming slightly ragged.

Bending his head he sealed the final gap between them pressing his lips to hers in an open mouthed kiss. Phryne immediately responded, wrapping her arms around Jack haphazardly and deepening the kiss. It became frantic and frenzied as they both attempted to convey their desire through this preliminary kiss.

At the moment when she felt Jack’s hand loosening her blouse from the waistband of her jeans, Phryne began trying to undo Jack’s apron, which was considerably more difficult than she had anticipated. She broke the kiss in frustration.

“God damn it Jack, how do you get this off?”

“I know you can’t cook Phryne, but surely you can work an apron?” he replied with rather more wit than he had been expecting to be able to summon.

“Jack, the only other man in my life who wears an apron is Mr B. And, you know, _boundaries_.”

Jack laughed and the tension was momentarily broken. He reached around his back and untied the apron strings, removing the item carefully over his head.

“Do you want food?” he asked, attempting to convey that suddenly he wasn’t hungry. At least not for his own home-cooking.

“What do you want?” asked Phryne, leaning in and flicking open the top button of Jack’s shirt.

Jack looked at Phryne, who was now swirling her fingertips across his shoulder. Mustering up all the courage he had he replied, “I want you.”  

Phryne smiled but said nothing in response. She took a small step backwards and held out her hand towards Jack who tentatively reached out his hand in response. He followed her path as she carefully pulled him towards his bedroom.

As they crossed into the bedroom, Jack pulled Phryne into his arms, and kissed her. He pressed her against the wall where the kitchen met the bedroom, and was remarkably pleased when she responded with enthusiasm. She ran her hands up inside his shirt, feeling his muscles. Jack pressed her against the wall more tightly and continued kissing her. She broke the kiss and whispered into his ear, “Bed, Jack, please.”

He spun her around, still wrapped around her and took the last few steps towards his bed. Parting for a moment, Jack toed off his shoes as elegantly as possible, which was not very, managing to wriggle his socks off with a similar lack of coordination. Phryne demonstrated considerably more poise as she balanced on one foot, bending her other leg up behind her to remove her shoe, twisting slightly to pluck the item from her foot. Jack tried not to allow himself to consider how much yoga she did and how flexible she might be. She repeated the action with the other shoe, losing a good four inches in height as she did.

Phryne paused, curious to see if Jack would take the lead once more. Jack took a step forwards and wrapped an arm around Phryne’s waist. He ran his other hand up her arm and skimmed his fingers up the side of her neck. Phryne briefly fluttered her eyelids closed and tried to stop herself from overthinking everything. Jack’s hand at her waist had already recommenced its loosening of her blouse and Phryne was suddenly impatient. She grabbed Jack’s shirt, starting to undo the buttons. She had half of them done when Jack broke the kiss, leaned back slightly and pulled the shirt over his head, casting it towards the floor. Phryne started quickly tugging at her own blouse. Jack stepped back towards her and stilled her hand.

“Phryne, we have all night. We don’t have to hurry.” He bent down and kissed her lips once more, cupping her chin in his hands. He knew that he wanted to take this slowly, that he wanted to savour the experience. “All right?”

Phryne nodded as Jack stroked her jawline. She tried not to shiver and felt herself becoming damp already. Whilst she was still unsure how much of a plan Jack had, she knew she had partially made plans of her own, and the blouse and vest top needed to come off. “Slowly, then. But your shirt’s off Jack, and you know I’m all for equality.”

“Well then perhaps I can assist you?” rumbled Jack, running the back of his fingers up the fastening of Phryne’s blouse. He paused at the top and pinched the top button free. Maintaining eye contact with Phryne he worked his fingers slowly back down the blouse, kissing his lips along her jawline as his fingers worked lower.

Phryne’s hand was lightly gripping his back, willing herself to slow things down to Jack’s pace. She often seduced with wild abandon, trails of clothing scattered about before a frantic burst of frenzied fucking. Which was entirely enjoyable but, she was beginning to suspect, not really Jack’s style. Certainly he had been gentle and tender last weekend, even as he had been fucking her with his fingers. Her mind flitted back to how quickly he had been able to bring her to orgasm then, and she smiled to herself in anticipation.

Jack had worked all the buttons free, and moved his hands up to slide the flimsy material down her arms. He freed the garment and tossed it behind her where it floated towards his bedside table. He cautiously rubbed his fingers over the bottom hem of the vest top. He kissed her once more, as his hands slid upwards, rucking the top between his forefingers and thumbs. The side of his thumb made contact with the satiny soft material and lace trimmings of her bra as his hands moved closer to her shoulders. He tugged the vest top over her shoulders, and Phryne obliged him by raising her arms to allow him to peel the top from her body. He threw it generally in the same direction as the blouse and wrapped his arms back around her.

Phryne tried not to tremble too much as Jack kissed his way from her lips, along her jawline, and down her neck, nuzzling as he went. She tilted her head and nibbled at his earlobe, running the fingers of one hand along his jawline and into his hair. He moaned as his lips caressed her shoulders and his arms moved upward to run across the smooth lines of her bra. He leaned back once more and ran his thumbs over her covered breasts. This underwear was new, he could tell, and yet it was somehow familiar. A memory flooded back into his mind.

“Is this from that shop in London?” he asked, cupping her breasts in the palm of his hands, running his palms around underneath the delicate, pale mounds, before bringing his hands to rest on the side of the body. His thumbs were still splayed across the peaks, allowing him to sweep across where he knew her nipples were.

“Shop in London?” Phryne asked, trying to retain her focus.

“You went shopping. And then you put a picture on Facebook. And it was a bag from a shop I hadn’t heard of, so I googled it.”

“You googled ‘Rigby & Peller’?”

“I did. It was very enlightening. And this, I seem to recall, comes as part of a matching set.” Jack murmured. He hoped Phryne would move past the question of exactly how much research he had undertaken. He swept his thumbs back across her nipples again in a move calculated to distract her.

“It does Jack. You obviously have a very keen eye.” She was trying to sound much more controlled than she felt.

“Well I am very keen where you’re concerned Phryne.”

“And I’m very pleased to hear that Jack. Would you like to see if you’re correct?” she smouldered.

“Yes.” Jack growled, his attempts to retain his composure failing rapidly.

“Well go on then,” she whispered, licking his earlobe once more as she moved her hands to Jack’s waist, teasing her fingers inside the waistband of his jeans.

Jack moved his hands slowly down until they met the top of Phryne’s jeans. He glanced down and noted that there was no belt to be fiddled with. He worked open the button and slid down the zip. Phryne considered kissing his neck, but decided against distracting him any further. Jack made a quick assessment of the logistics of getting Phryne’s jeans off. He ran his thumbs inside the waistband and pushed the denim slowly downwards.

As he swept his arms down, sinking to his knees, he pushed Phryne’s jeans down her legs. She helped him slide the jeans over her feet and he placed them carefully on the floor next to him. Running his gaze back up her legs he found himself eye-level with Phryne’s hips. The underwear was indeed a matching set. He ran his fingers over the knickers and wondered what the hell he had done right to find himself in this situation.

He ran his hands around her bottom, holding her delicately, whilst he stroked a hand across her lower back and caressed her hip. Pressing his lips to her thigh, he moved up to kiss her hip, and feeling emboldened, pressed light butterfly kisses across her stomach, swirling his tongue lightly around her belly button. Partially in an attempt to hold herself up, Phryne rested her a hand on his shoulder, running the other one through his hair. The feel of the slight roughness of his fingers as they trailed over her smooth skin was making her spine tingle.

Jack shifted to kiss her other hip, nuzzling his nose into the crease of her leg and pressing his lips to the very top of her thigh. Suddenly, he was aware of a heady scent, which Jack recognised as entirely Phryne.

He felt Phryne tugging daintily at his arms, and pressed his lips to each of her hips once more before slowly raising himself back up to standing. He tried to think of a witty comeback about the lingerie, but found his coherence fading him as he felt his erection growing. He undid his own belt and his jeans and let them drop to the floor. They were not as close fitting as Phryne’s and he was grateful he didn’t need her assistance. He honestly felt if she knelt on the floor in front of him that he’d combust.

Phryne glanced down, Jack was wearing boxer briefs which hugged his arse but maintained some modesty as far as his crotch was concerned. She closed the small distance between them and ran her hands over his chest. She pressed a kiss to his clavicle, running her hands over his back and shoulders. Raising herself up on her tiptoes she pressed her lips to his neck, his jaw, his cheek and finally his lips. Jack kissed her back, as they held each other tenderly.

Feeling cheeky, she palmed his hardening cock once through the fabric, smiled wickedly and sat gracefully on the bed, scooting herself back over the covers. Sitting with her back against the pillows she gave Jack a look which he interpreted as ‘come hither’. He knelt onto the bed, half crawling towards her, until he came to rest, kneeling between her legs. He leaned forwards, pulling Phryne to him as he kissed her once more.

Yearning now to be ever closer to him, Phryne inched forward and manoeuvred herself until she was straddling Jack’s lap. Jack ran the back of his fingers lightly down Phryne’s cheek before gently kissing her on the lips. Phryne found her eyes fluttering closed as she released a deep sigh. She spread the fingers of one hand, bracing herself across Jack’s back, and ran her other hand across every inch of his skin she could reach. Whilst his fingers and hands were rough, the rest of his skin was smooth and soft. The muscles of his back were clearly traceable and Phryne ran her fingers around the outline of them, familiarising herself with every ripple and groove.

Jack found his hands sliding to Phryne’s waist, where he swirled patterns with one hand, the other holding her in place on his thighs. He trailed kisses down Phryne’s neck and shoulders, moving his mouth down slowly until he reached the top of her breast. He kissed her there, opening his mouth against the exposed skin, tasting her perfume. Relocating the hand which was tracing Phryne’s waist, hip and thigh, he slid his fingers up, across Phryne’s stomach and up until his fingers were tracing the lace trim which edged the cup of her bra. Carefully sliding his fingers inside the bra, he softly slid the material under Phryne’s delicate breast, caressing gently as he moved his lips to suckle on her nipple.

Phryne felt Jack surround her nipple with his soft lips. He was so gentle and tender and Phryne found her arousal deepening. She hummed her approval and felt Jack nuzzle closer as his tongue circled the very tip of her nipple. Nervously, he slid the hand which had remained on her waist up and around her back. He felt for the hook and eye on the band of the bra. Realising what Jack was attempting, and that his fingers were trembling, Phryne sat up slightly, pushing her shoulder blades together. That small action enabled Jack to loosen the fastening on his first try, and he released his mouth, sitting back up, his gaze meeting Phryne’s. Reminding himself that he’d seen her breasts already he confidently swept the straps of the bra down her arms, and pulled the satin cups away from her body, taking care not to hurt her, or damage the exquisite lingerie itself. He dropped the satin and lace garment to the floor, bringing his hand back to rest on her waist once more.

His confidence faded somewhat as he swept his fingers over Phryne’s almost entirely naked body, an awareness developing that this was not at all the same as last weekend. Something had changed over the last few weeks; an intimacy had begun to develop between them which Jack was coming to crave more with every moment he spent with her. Emboldened by this realisation, Jack tried to allow himself to abandon the last of his nervousness and doubt.  

They kissed gently, tenderly, delicately, each stroking and caressing the other. Their explorations were slow, unhurried and calm, as if each second was an eternity of its own.

As Jack swirled a tongue around Phryne’s earlobe, releasing a slow puff of hot air against her ear, Phryne felt Jack’s erection press against her thigh. The thought of him inside her was a temptation too great to resist any longer.

Bending forwards she whispered softly to him, “Jack. I want you. I _need_ you. Please.”

Jack’s eyes met hers, as if he was seeking final reassurance. Phryne’s eyes were black with desire, her breathing slow but laboured. Pressing a delicate kiss to her lips once more, he slid her from his thighs, moving her carefully until she was lying on his bed. Sliding a hand under her lower back he raised her hips slightly. Phryne moved her arms and slid her knickers carefully down her legs as far as she could reach. Jack used his other hand to slide the satin and lace free, and swept them to the floor.

Feeling his own breathing becoming more ragged by the moment, Jack became aware of Phryne’s fingers teasing the waistband of his underwear. He knelt on his hands and knees, and as gracefully as he could muster, removed his briefs kicking them behind him, hearing them hit the floor. He moved back up the bed and with a decisiveness which surprised him, slid open the drawer of his bedside table and fumbled for a condom.

Focusing his attention on Phryne he found her watching him, a look on her face of pure want and hunger. He also noticed as she scanned her eyes up and down his body and smiled slightly when her gaze reached his cock. The twinkle of delight in her eyes, the small smile that formed and the faint hum of what he took as approval that emerged from her lips made him even harder.

Phryne felt as if every part of her body was on fire. She watched as Jack shucked off his briefs, and found her breathing quickening as she _finally_ gazed on the sight of Jack. As she hummed her delight, he noticeably hardened and grew even more, and the smile on Phryne’s face widened, as she licked her lips softly in anticipation.

Jack shifted his weight and swept his hand up and then down her body. Sweeping past her waist, his fingers ghosted her hip before he changed the angle of his hand and moved the heel of his palm across her abdomen. His fingers traced a very small line of silvered skin just above her hip bone.

Skating his fingers across her skin, Jack fought not to close his eyes as his fingers slipped through the small, neat patch of soft pubic hair and spread her labia sweeping a finger across her inner folds until he was teasing inside her. He tried to control himself as he noted that she was practically dripping and trembling minutely. Experimentally he pressed the pad of his thumb to her clit. The uncontrolled moaning sound Phryne made drove Jack over the edge. He grabbed the condom, ripping it from the packet and managing to sheath himself with a dexterity which made his confidence develop further.

Phryne opened her legs further, allowing Jack to position himself between her thighs. He looked at her and had a further small moment of hesitation.

“Come here.” Phryne beckoned softly. Jack did as he was told and leaned forwards, hovering over Phryne as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him gently towards her.

Realising that Jack’s understandable nervousness was threatening to overtake him, and seeing a fear beginning to develop in his eyes, Phryne kissed him tenderly. “Hmm, Jack” she sighed, her eyes fluttering shut.

Jack ran his hand down her body once more, and pressed his forefinger to her clit, applying some light strokes. Phryne’s chest began to heave as her need increased. She opened her eyes and looked directly at him. Not breaking eye-contact, Jack took his cock in his hand, used a finger to find her opening and hesitantly pushed inside her. Phryne tried not to whimper in sheer relief.

Jack’s hand was trapped between them and as he wriggled to release it, he brushed Phryne’s clit once more. Unexpectedly Phryne was hit by a small wave of an orgasm. A strangulated moan emerged from her throat and Jack momentarily froze. Assuring himself that the sound was positive, he popped his last finger free and pressed his hips to Phryne’s. The muscles of Phryne’s inner core lightly pulsed around his cock and he had to focus intently to avoid coming immediately.

Phryne battled to still her body’s reactions and took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly in an attempt to calm herself. She wrapped a leg around the back of his thigh and placed the other as firmly as she could on the covers, curling her toes in an attempt to grip onto the duvet. She ran her free hand down Jack’s cheek, placed that hand on the covers and pushed herself up slightly, meeting Jack’s lips with her own.

Jack responded instantaneously, deepening the kiss as he began to move cautiously within her. She felt amazing; warm and smooth and as if they were meant to fit together perfectly.

“Oh, god,” she murmured as she felt him, buried in her, pushing himself further inside her. She moved her hips a fraction and felt him do the same.

It was briefly a little awkward as they endeavoured to find a rhythm, and then Jack shifted his hips as Phryne clamped her muscles around the base of his shaft. They promptly fell into a rhythm that worked, as they rose and fell together. Phryne felt her muscles begin to pulse with less control, her kisses became sloppier and she fell back, abandoning rational thought as she succumbed to the orgasm which had been building slowly.

Feeling her begin to come apart around him, Jack struggled as he attempted to imprint the memory within his mind. He twisted his hips once more and felt himself build to an inevitable climax.

“Phryne!” He exclaimed, as he came with a force which surprised him with its intensity.

He collapsed on top of her as his arms lost all strength. Phryne’s hand similarly failed to support the change in weight and collapsed beneath her. She fell flat onto her back once more and found herself staring at the ceiling, panting as she struggled for breath.

 

After a few minutes, and sufficiently recovered enough to support his own weight once more, Jack freed the hand that was trapped beneath Phryne and reached between them, carefully withdrawing his softening cock from her, trying not to grimace as he did so. There was no dignified way to entirely separate himself from Phryne and he carefully unwrapped her leg from where it was still wrapped around his, kissing her knee as he moved her leg gently.

Kneeling up he gingerly attempted to deal with the condom with a modicum of dignity, before rolling back and tentatively running his hand across Phryne’s stomach. He dipped his head and kissed her shoulder, running the fingers of his other hand through her hair, sweeping it back behind her ear. He pressed his lips to her temple. “All right?” he asked, swallowing nervously again.

As the world came back into focus around her, Phryne felt Jack press his lips to her temple. The warmth travelled through her body, causing her core to ripple with an aftershock. A small smile broke across her face, spreading to her eyes. “Hmm” she hummed, in response.

Jack decided to take that as a positive response. He strummed his hand over her stomach and waited as Phryne blinked her eyes several times before turning her head towards him, meeting his gaze and smiling brightly.

As she felt her body returning to a relaxed state, she considered matters. Jack had obviously been nervous, which was, she mused, understandable. She’d felt somewhat nervous herself. Which was uncharacteristic. She wondered whether it had been the slow build up to this evening that was now leaving her feeling surprisingly emotional. Phryne prided herself on her lack of emotional involvement when it came to sex, but with Jack everything felt different. She had allowed him to dictate the pace of their physical relationship, had relinquished some control to him. And she was surprised to discover that she did not feel scared by this. She felt secure, and safe, and not even slightly vulnerable.

Phryne shifted her weight until she was lying on her side, facing Jack. She ran her hand down Jack’s side, circling her fingers across his hips, smoothing around the curve of his backside. She swept across the top of his thigh, noting a narrow indent just below where thigh turned into hip. She sat up and looked at the area her fingers had traced. She looked at Jack, who had moved the hand which had been splayed across her stomach down to her hips as she had sat up. She raised an eyebrow in silent question.

“Work injury. Stabbing.” Jack offered, by way of explanation.

“Work injury?” she asked, intrigued.

“I was a Constable. Still quite new. I arrested this old lady, for being rolling drunk, in the middle of the street, in the middle of the day. And she took unkindly to it.”

“And she stabbed you?”

“With a startling accuracy which somehow managed to avoid anything vital.”

“What happened to her?”

“Once she’d sobered up she was remarkably apologetic. Explained to me the various problems she was having with her son, who has a serious criminal record, and I arranged for her to have one of the very best solicitors who worked under VLA.”

“My word Jack, that’s exceptionally generous.”

Jack shrugged, “It was the right thing to do, in the circumstances. No-one would have been helped by her going to jail, and she’d never have been able to afford to pay a big fine. She wanders into the reception at SKR every so often, cries on my shoulder about her wayward lad, and then wanders off again to the nearest pub.”

“But your leg’s fine?”

“Absolutely. Champion cycling legs these.” Said Jack, a cheeky smile appearing on his face.

“And they really are excellent legs, Jack.” Said Phryne, running her fingers softly over the indent, and continuing on down towards his knees.

“And what about you?” asked Jack, sweeping his index finger across the small sliver of silvery skin just above her pelvic bone that he had noted earlier.

“Much more mundane I’m afraid. Appendix Scar. God bless the NHS.” Her face crinkled as she smiled.

“Hmm. How long ago?”

“I was twelve. And I got to be off school for a whole extra two weeks. Very exciting.”

“You know, for someone who has an appetite for knowing anything, you don’t seem to have liked school very much.”

“I don’t respond well to regimented routines.” Phryne replied, as if that explained everything.

“And what did you learn from having your appendix out?” Jack asked, rubbing his fingers over the area once more.

“Anatomy of the entire lower body. The surgeon seemed most surprised by my interest.”

“Well I’m very glad the NHS sorted you out.” Said Jack, who shifted himself down the covers, bent his head over to Phryne’s stomach and kissed the small scar.

He shifted back to lie alongside her, stroking his hand through her hair, then down her back. Her skin was pale and soft and smooth and so warm and Jack wanted to trace every inch of her.

Phryne found her arousal spiking once more. How was he able to make her respond that way with the merest touch? She decided not to think about it too much, and pulled him gently to her to kiss him thoroughly once more.

Their kissing was still gentle and tender, yet passionate and intense. After lingering minutes, during which their legs entwined and they moved ever closer to each other, Phryne was considering rolling Jack onto his back before straddling him for round two. Other parts of her had different ideas, and at the point at which she sat up slightly and prepared to give Jack’s shoulders a gentle shove back towards the duvet, her stomach loudly rumbled.

Scrunching her eyes shut in embarrassment, Phryne decided she would probably ignore it and continue. She felt Jack sit up next to her and press his lips to her cheek.

“Hungry?” he asked, slightly disappointed that they were having to pause what was obviously a second round of foreplay. He considered however that giving himself more recovery time wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

Phryne nodded, her eyes still shut.

“OK. I’ll go and reheat the lasagne.” Jack stood off the bed and grabbed his dressing gown from where it rested on an armchair in the corner of the room. He bent over and kissed her temple as he walked past the bed out into the main space.

 

Hearing the sounds of Jack in the kitchen, Phryne opened her eyes. Her stomach rumbling was embarrassing, she thought. She looked around, deciding that she needed to join Jack, and that doing so naked would probably distract them again. And the lasagne really had smelt very good before she had decided that they just needed to get the first round of sex over and done with, for both their sakes.

The microwave pinged and Jack extracted her food, swapping the plate for the one with his portion. He turned around with the hot plate in his hand. His jaw dropped, and was almost followed by the plate. Wandering out of the bedroom was Phryne, and she was wearing his shirt. Quite possibly she was _just_ wearing his shirt, he couldn’t be sure and he tried not to allow himself to consider that thought in too much detail. Phryne smiled at him and sat down demurely at the dining table, crossing her legs as she did.

Jack placed the food in front of Phryne as she pushed the sleeves of the shirt up her arms. Jack moved back to retrieve his own food from the microwave. Quickly he joined her at the table, bringing the earlier abandoned bottle of wine with him.

They sat and ate, Phryne rubbing her foot wickedly up Jack’s leg as they did so. Jack made no attempt to stop her, merely eating quicker.

“This is really very good Jack,” said Phryne, “I’m sort of sorry that I didn’t let you feed me earlier.” She added.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” said Jack, swallowing his last mouthful, “It’s actually better when it’s reheated.”

“Really?”

“Allows the hidden flavours time to really merge and develop” Jack said, emptying his glass of wine.

“Hmm. I wonder what else is hidden that we can find to merge and develop?” Phryne smouldered, sliding her fork from her mouth slowly, and placing it firmly on her plate.

“Well why don’t we go and find out?” said Jack, pulling Phryne up from her chair, and kissing her deeply. “I suggest we start with finding out what might be hidden beneath that shirt of mine.” He pulled Phryne to him, gripping her waist as he half-carried, half-dragged her back to bed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every item Jack stares at on the shelves is genuinely available in Priceline.


	7. Saturday 4th June

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack Robinson - master planner, smooth so-and-so!

Jack was roused by sunlight filtering through the edges of the blinds in his bedroom. He rolled to look at Phryne, who was still passed out next to him. It had been a very long night, as they had made love another three times. The last time Phryne had come with an intensity that had astonished him as soon as he had kissed her nipple whilst pressing his thumb to her clit.

That last time, he had held her to him as she ground her hips down against his and she had come _again_ as he himself had climaxed for the fourth time that evening. He was exhausted and had only just managed to deal with the condom and pull Phryne to him before he had passed out. Now that he was waking, the immediacy of his passing out felt quite rude. But she hadn’t fled during the night, for which he was relieved, and she had obviously shifted during her sleep. She was curled up on her side, her back against his ribs. One of his pillows was hugged against her chest and her head was resting on his outstretched arm. She nuzzled against his bicep as he slid his other hand around her waist.

Phryne stirred as she felt Jack press his lips to her shoulder. His hand was lying across her waist and she smiled as she flexed and stretched. She wondered whether Jack had any feeling left in the arm she had been resting her head on. Rolling to face him, she felt him flex that arm, before moving it to lie along her spine.

“Did you sleep well?” asked Jack, pressing the briefest of kisses to the tip of her nose.

“I did. But I already knew your bed was very comfortable. You?” she asked, as she slid a hand to his hip and traced her fingers over his skin.

“Extremely well.” Jack swirled his thumb around her waist. His eyes flicked from her eyes to her lips and back again.

Phryne hummed as she observed Jack. He was the most tender, gentle, and sharing lover. She wondered if he had any plans for the day. “Do you have to work today?” she asked, almost in a whisper.

“No. Not till Monday. Entirely free weekend.” Jack replied, grateful for Friday’s court hearing. He was also grateful he wasn’t on call this weekend. It occurred to him he had no idea of Phryne’s schedule. “Do you have plans for today?”

“Only to seduce you. Repeatedly.” Phryne answered, gently, as she slid her leg over Jack’s hip to straddle him.

“You’ve seduced me already Phryne.”

“That’s funny Jack, I thought I was here at your invitation,” she said, placing a kiss to his lips as the duvet gathered at her hips.

Jack ran his arms around her waist, skimming down to her hips. “Hmm, and I’m very pleased you accepted. So you have nowhere else you have to be?”

“Just here, Jack. Just here.” She looked at him from hooded eyes as she ran a hand to his cock and stroked it, almost absent-mindedly.

Jack shuddered. She really was going to be the death of him, and he found that he didn’t mind one bit.

 

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

 

“So, would you like some breakfast?” Jack asked, rubbing his hand across her back.

Phryne thought for a moment. Her stomach indicated that food would be welcomed and she smiled at Jack as she lay on her front, propping herself up on her elbows. “What do you have for breakfast?” she asked, wondering whether Jack was a cereal or toast man.

“Well, I didn’t know whether you did Australian Breakfast, or British Breakfast…?”

“I do my breakfast. _What_ depends on how I’m feeling.”

“Hmm. So I have coffee, I have some Just Right and some Instant Oats. I have toast, well, bread and a toaster. I also have sausages, bacon, eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes and baked beans. And Tea.”

“You drink tea?”

“Only occasionally, and usually at my mum’s.”

“Oh.” Phryne considered Jack. For a man who claimed not to have a seduction plan, he was pulling off seducing her very effectively. And ‘planning’ was obviously a skill he possessed in spades.

“I think, a bacon sarnie, and a cup o’tea?” she said, in an approximation of a cockney accent.  

“That was very _Mary Poppins_.” Jack said.

Phryne pulled back and looked at him. “Do you watch much Disney, Jack?” humour in her tone.

“My nieces do. You end up knowing the words to every song.” He rose from the bed, and fished around on the floor, eventually locating his underwear.

“Acceptable reason. Jane insisted on watching Mamma Mia every weekend the first year it was out. Turns out there is a limit to my tolerance of ABBA. And Pierce Brosnan’s singing.”

“Do you have to do anything with Jane this weekend?” asked Jack, finding his jeans on the floor on the other side of the bed and pulling them on. He supposed he should have a shower, but he could deal with that later.

“No, she’s having a whole weekend sleepover at Ruth’s. I believe they’re going to ScienceWorks today.”

“Oh my sister’s kids love it there.”

“Which sister?”

“Kathy.”

Phryne cast her mind to previous conversations with Jack over the last eighteen months. “Two kids? Boy and a girl? Jimmy and Maggie?”

“Ohh, you have been paying attention, _Miss Fisher_ ,” said Jack, offering her his dressing gown which had also spent the night on the floor, half wrapped around the leg of the bed.

“Well, as I’m sure you know, _Inspector_ , observation is the foundation of successful detection.”

“And what have you observed?” Jack asked, helping Phryne out of bed and wrapping the fluffy gown around her, tying the belt at her waist.

Phryne wrapped her arms around Jack’s neck. “That you are a generous man, Jack Robinson.” She pushed up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. “And it would not surprise me in the least if you knew the lyrics to every song in every Disney movie your nieces had ever made you watch. And I suspect, you have probably _enabled_ them with strategic DVD purchases.”

 

They moved through to the kitchen where Jack donned his apron again, before turning his attentions to filling the kettle with water. Phryne rooted in her handbag for her toiletries case, slipping her phone into the pocket of the dressing gown as she did so. She moved to Jack, kissing his uncovered shoulder blade as she spoke into his ear, “Back in a minute” she said, moving to the bathroom.

Deciding that grease was definitely the way forwards, Jack rooted in a cupboard for a frying pan, placed it on the stove and turned on the heat. He plundered the fridge for the bacon. A few moments later he added some oil to the pan, waiting for it to heat up before neatly arranged the slices of bacon.

 

In the bathroom Phryne found the discreet pocket in her toiletries case which housed her Pill. She swallowed it quickly and pushed the pack back into the side pocket.

Turning her phone on and waiting for it to boot up she took a moment to consider the contents of the bathroom. It was all very ordered. Jack’s toothbrush and toothpaste were in a rigidly aligned arrangement near to the cold water tap. There was a small selection of shaving products near the hot water tap. She checked her phone and texted Jane to make sure she was OK.

Staring into the mirror, she contemplated options. She had gone light on the make up last night, and what little there had been had rubbed off since then. Feeling that it would be ridiculous to have a full face of make-up whilst wearing a dressing gown, she decided not to bother, washing her hands and face before brushing her teeth thoroughly. She would need a shower, and soon, possibly before she continued her plan to seduce Jack for the rest of the morning. She glanced at the shower cubicle, noting that it could easily accommodate two people and for the briefest of seconds her mind wandered back to Harry and The Beaufort. Possibly not in the shower with Jack quite so soon then, but she filed the thought away in the back of her mind.

Phryne noticed the tub of hair gel was a little way off to one side. Jack’s hair was so soft, and, well, fluffy without the gel in it. Phryne considered how much softer Jack was when his layers were stripped away. Before she had gone to London they _had_ spent time together, and she had known how different Jack was away from work and the scrutiny of the world. She had failed to realise just how much fun he was. She supposed that it was foolish to imagine she would know everything about him already; after all, there was so much about her that Jack was not yet aware of, so much of herself that she always kept hidden, from almost everyone. The thought of truly opening herself up to him was less frightening than she imagined it might be. But it was still too soon for full disclosure. And not something she ever usually did. She reminded herself that Jack was not ‘usual’. The existence of ‘breakfast’ was testament to that. She inhaled deeply and smelt the unmistakable aroma of bacon frying. Her phone buzzed with a reply from Jane; all was fine. She turned her phone off again. Smiling at her reflection in the mirror, she fastened her bag of toiletries and made her way out of the bathroom.

 

Taking a chair at the dining table Phryne leant back and watched Jack as he finished making the breakfast. The kettle had boiled and the tea was brewing. Jack slid a plate towards Phryne. There was a small stack of bacon sandwiches on it.

“Are all these for me?” Phryne asked.

“For both of us. I usually go for cereal or toast, but as it’s a Saturday, and apparently there is to be ‘repeated’ seduction, I thought something a bit more substantial was in order.” Jack slid two smaller plates onto the table.

Phryne noted the hint of a smirk on the corner of his lips.

“Really?”

“I think I’m going to need the energy.” Jack stirred the tea bags in their mugs, fishing them out with a spoon. He moved to the table and slid a mug towards Phryne. “Sorry. I don’t have a teapot…”

She managed to maintain a straight face as she asked, “Do you have freshly sliced lemon?”

“Erm, er, no, sorry, I didn’t know…”

“Jack, relax. I’m pulling your leg. Do you have milk?”

“Milk I have. But, erm, no milk jug.”

“Just pass the carton, Jack. We’re not having brunch at The Palace.”

Jack opened the fridge and pulled the milk from the shelf in the door. He passed it over to Phryne, looking slightly sheepish. As the words ‘The Palace’ rang through Jack’s mind, he suddenly remembered his pièce de résistance. He moved away from the table and opened a cupboard above the counter. He reached in, grabbed the bottle, turned and quickly moved back to the table. The bottle hit the table top with a resounding thump. Jack sat down, looking slightly nervous again.

Phryne tried not to giggle. “Where on earth did you get that?” she picked up the HP Sauce, carefully scanning the ingredients label, thankfully acknowledging that it was an import.

“Big Coles at Victoria Gardens.”

“Do you like it?”

“Never tried it. Honestly, not entirely sure what’s in it, even after reading the label. But you were excited enough to tweet about it, so…”

“Jack. You’re very sweet. Pass a knife?”

Jack reached behind him, retrieved a knife from the drawer and passed it to Phryne.

“Well, I shall have to ask Mrs B to shop further afield than she’s used to.” She unscrewed the cap, removed the hygiene seal, reattached the cap and set to working on a sandwich, encouraging the brown coloured sauce onto one of the buttered slices of bread. She spread the sauce carefully before pushing the bread back onto the bacon. She held the sandwich towards Jack. “Have a try?”

Jack nodded and reached across the table tentatively, taking a bite of the offered food. He chewed, considering the flavours. “Actually that’s not bad is it?”

“Indeed. But almost certainly terribly unhealthy.”

They chewed on their respective sandwiches for a few minutes. Phryne added a generous splash of milk to her mug of tea, held the knife in the middle and stirred the handle through the tea, blending the milk into the steaming liquid. She licked the drops of liquid from the knife handle, placing the cutlery item on the table between them.

“So how do you know what the component parts of a Full English are?” Phyne asked.

Jack smiled slightly. “My mum watches a lot of Coronation Street. Which means, if I’m around when it’s on, that I watch a lot of Coronation Street. And I can’t tell you who any of the characters are, and honestly, I kind of struggle with some of the accents, but I think the background stuff has just seeped in over the years. What’s black pudding? I couldn’t find that.”

“It’s blood sausage.”

Jack stopped chewing.

Phryne shrugged her shoulders, “They used everything, every part they could. Why not the blood?”

“Well, less waste I suppose?” Jack found his mind boggling.

“But I’m not a huge fan myself, and anyway Coronation Street is Manchester. It’s a whole different world from London or Gloucestershire.”

“How far is Manchester from your parent’s place?”

“About 150 miles.” She saw the look of confusion on Jack’s face and did a rough calculation, “About, 240 kilometres?”

“That’s not even as far as Bairnsdale. How different can it be?”

“It’s Britain, Jack. It’s 60 million people crammed onto a tiny island. Parallel streets can be completely different to each other. Have you never been?”

“To the UK? Blimey no! I’ve always wanted to travel, but I’ve never really been anywhere.”

“Well, what’s the furthest you have been?”

Jack considered. “I’ve been to Canberra, school trip in Year 11. And I’ve been to Eddie’s place in Adelaide. Drove there one day.” He hoped she wouldn’t press the matter, he didn’t want to take the warmth away from their conversation.

“You drove to Adelaide? Why didn’t you just get a flight?”

“It was just after I got my car. And I took two weeks leave, got up very early one morning and just drove there, along the Great Ocean Road. Which was spectacular.”

“Just after you got your car?”

“Yeah,” Jack tried not to wince.

Phryne saw the slight recoil of Jack’s body. She hadn’t known what was going on at the time, but Jack had suddenly not been available at SKR, and he had been very quiet in the weeks before he had disappeared. She knew now that his marriage had just fallen apart, and she could understand his need to just run and hide for a while. She decided to move away from the subject. “I worked a case without you then, I think.”

“You did? Who with?”

“An Inspector O’Shaughnessy? I think? Nice enough, but I had to practically shove his face into the _very_ obvious evidence. I much prefer working cases with you.”

“Because I’m merely two steps behind you?”

“Because you listen to my input. Can’t stand a man who assumes he’s always just right, and that the woman mustn’t have a clue what she’s doing.”

Jack finished his sandwich and tried not to smile too widely. O’Shaughnessy was a good copper, but he was old school, and his solve rate wasn’t as good as Jack’s. Not that he took notice of all the many statistics that came out of Headquarters. Well, perhaps some of them. “How’s the tea?” he asked, hoping for a less controversial topic.

“Excellent. You have poured boiling water onto dried leaves with a very high level of competence.” She smiled.

“You’re being humorous. I can see the little smile that means you’re winding me up.”

“I am Jack. See, what did we say about observation?”

Jack tilted his head in acknowledgement. He pushed his plate into the middle of the table and downed his mug of tea. He noted that Phryne also appeared to have finished breakfast. He cleared his throat. “Whilst we’re talking about observation, I notice that you’ve been here for, what, fourteen hours, and your phone hasn’t rung, it hasn’t buzzed and I’m fairly sure it hasn’t even vibrated.”

“I turned it off.”

“You turned your phone off?”

“I did.” Phryne smiled at Jack. She had determined that Jack deserved the entirety of her attention, with no possible distractions.

“Oh.” Jack had a moment of wondering what this might mean. He decided it meant he was getting the full benefit of her focus. The realisation encouraged him greatly. He cleared his throat before he spoke again. “Now, about this _repeated_ seduction…”

 

 


	8. Thursday 16th June

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sneaky Fish and Chip Supper, coitus interuptus, and a talk which becomes unexpectedly serious.

 

**Fish and Chips Dahlings – such a guilty pleasure!**

 

Phryne paused at her door and fiddled in her handbag for her keys. Jack stood a pace behind her. Phryne’s work had suddenly become busier even than Jack’s and they had squeezed a late night supper, grabbed on the St Kilda foreshore, into the evening. Phryne had tweeted a picture of the meal, carefully ensuring that Jack wasn’t in shot when she did. Jack had walked Phryne back to her house, his car parked a few hundred metres down the street.

As Phryne slipped her key into the lock, she half turned to Jack. She looked at him carefully. “Would you like to come in? And come upstairs?” she asked.

“Oh. Yes.” Jack answered.

Phryne smiled, and turned the key. The door opened slowly, and Phryne stuck her head tentatively around the door frame, checking the hallway for any sounds of movement from the house’s other occupants.

She tugged on his hand and he stepped into the hallway behind her, pushing the door gently into the frame, hearing the lock click. “Well this feels like being a teenager,” he murmured.

Phryne smiled and reached behind Jack to secure the door. “Are you, OK with this? I don’t know if you want to stay, or sneak off later, or…?”

“We’ll think about that later? But the promise of your _boudoir_ has long held my interest.” He swept her hair behind her ear, and pressed his lips to hers.

Phryne deepened the kiss, almost instinctively now. They had been _sleeping_ together for less than two weeks, and she was finding that she couldn’t get enough of him. “Well, far be it from me to deny your insatiable sense of curiosity, _Inspector_.”

“Well why don’t you make it a little easier for me and show me where we’re going.” Jack swept his hand down Phryne’s cheek, running his fingers down to trace her neck. He already knew that affected her far more than it had any right to.

Phryne tried to keep control of her breathing. She turned away from him and moved up the stairs quickly and quietly, Jack following in her wake. At the top of the staircase Phryne turned left before pausing at the first door. She turned to face Jack once more. Feeling very much on her own turf now, she swung the door open behind her. “Welcome, Jack, to the inner sanctum,” she smouldered.

Jack tried not to be nervous. He was utterly unprepared for this. He’d never even been upstairs in her house before. They’d always been _together_ at his flat. Which was sensible, he’d reasoned and had the advantage of giving them a lot less chance of being disturbed, or of being discovered. They were still keeping their relationship between themselves, and Phryne didn’t even need to sneak out of his flat in the mornings, she just left when he did.  It did occur to him to wonder whether he was going to have to sneak out of here in the early hours.

He stepped to the threshold and tried to remain calm. He tried to prepare himself for whatever the room might hold. Phryne flicked a light switch inside the door and the dark void was filled with a soft glow. Jack stepped past Phryne and looked around. It was everything he had expected, and at the same time, entirely surprising. The bed dominated the space. It was at least as big as his, and it was topped with what appeared to be a huge number of pillows and cushions. The doona looked deep enough to suffocate in. That was topped with a blanket made of some sort of soft material Jack wasn’t certain of. Across that was what Jack assumed to be a decorative cover of satin, or maybe silk? The entire arrangement screamed ‘comfort’ as much as ‘seduction’.

Jack looked behind him; there was a large, plush armchair in the corner. Jack shucked off his overcoat and placed it neatly over the arm of the chair. Deciding that he may as well make some presumptions, he cast off the jacket of his suit as well, laying it on top of his overcoat. He heard the door lock click shut and tried not to be too nervous. Reminding himself that the only thing that was changing was the venue, nothing else, and that sex with Phryne was really going very well, he thought, he turned to face her.

Phryne peeled her coat off, throwing it towards the chair where it landed messily on top of Jack’s clothing. She toed off her shoes and kicked them over to the chair also. She stalked over to Jack, as a lioness might stalk a gazelle, licking her lips as she got closer to him. Jack slid his hands around Phryne’s waist, drawing her closer to him. He dipped his head and kissed her. Feeling emboldened he pulled her up, feeling her wrap her arms around his neck. Jack adjusted his grip, wedging one arm firmly across her back. He moved carefully towards the bed, feeling the change in pressure when her legs met the bedcovers. He felt her legs sweep onto the bed, bending underneath her.

As he loosened his arms he worked free the button on the back of her skirt and slid the zip down. Today’s outfit was a black skirt with an ivory blouse in a smooth, light material that a man with more awareness of fashion would have pegged as chiffon. He could see what looked like a somewhat demure slip underneath the blouse. Jack pushed the skirt down her legs, and Phryne manoeuvred herself further onto the bed, working the skirt off as she did.

He gingerly moved onto the bed, hovering above her. He dipped down and kissed her once more. Phryne wrapped an arm around Jack’s back and rolled him onto his back, straddling herself over his thighs. She began working the buttons of his waistcoat free as Jack loosened the buttons on Phryne’s blouse.

There was a knock at the door. “Phryne?” said a voice Jack knew as Jane’s. They both froze their movements.  “Phryne are you busy?”

“Erm, a little.” Phryne replied, scrunching her face.

“Oh. Sorry. It was just…I wanted to talk about...something.” Jane went quiet.

“Give me a second Jane,” she shouted towards the door.

“OK.” They heard the teenager reply.

Phryne looked at Jack. “Go,” he whispered.

“Sorry,” she whispered back. She knew she needed to go and talk to Jane, that much was apparent, but she didn’t generally leave her conquests in her room on their own. This was Jack though. She could trust him. “Sorry,” she whispered again, “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Jack stroked his fingers up and down Phryne’s arm. “Phryne, take as long as she needs. I’m not going anywhere. Unless, you need me to leave?”

“No, no. Please stay.” She reached down and pressed her lips to his. She broke off and levered herself off him, scooting to the edge of the bed.

“Phryne?” she turned and looked at him. “Might want to put on a dressing gown, or something.”

She looked at herself. Her skirt had gone, her blouse was half undone and the slip underneath her clothes was half pushed up her thighs. Grinning at Jack she grabbed a robe from a peg on the back of the door, unlocking it. Opening it carefully so that Jane would not be able to see Jack she eased her way out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

Jack sighed and wondered how long Phryne would be. A thought flitted through the back of his mind that ‘busy’ sounded like a word that Phryne and Jane had concocted between them to avoid possible awkwardness. Sitting up he looked around the room slowly. There were various pieces of artwork on the walls. Jack listened; it had gone quiet in the hallway. His experiences with his own siblings and their children suggested that whatever was troubling Jane at this time at night was unlikely to be trivial or quick to deal with. He moved over to the walls to more closely examine the artwork.

The first piece was a small sketch, possibly an early draft version of a later work, Jack thought. It was pencil and some ink, the image flowers and leaves. The next was a larger landscape, a photographic print on canvas Jack thought. It wasn’t Australia he thought, the light was all wrong. Somewhere in Britain then, maybe her parent’s land? He couldn’t be sure. It was very calming, wherever it was.

The third piece took Jack by surprise. How he had failed to notice it until now, he wasn’t sure. It was on the wall facing the bed. This time the photograph was within a delicate frame. It was Phryne, and she was utterly naked. She was throwing a look towards the camera that he recognised now as the look she gave when she was highly aroused. For all that she was utterly unclothed, it was still somehow surprisingly demure, her legs arranged so as not to reveal the small neat patch of dark curls that Jack had grown to love running his fingers through as he explored how to best make her body respond to his touch. He wondered when the picture had been taken. Her hair was shoulder length and with the slight wave it had now, and he considered it somewhat unlikely that in the chaos of getting to Melbourne that she would have brought this with her. He also recalled that she had mentioned to him ‘unclothed artwork’ when he had intercepted her arrival back from London. So, not very recent, probably, but sometime in the last three years perhaps, he considered.  

He moved around the room once more, casting a quick glance out of the large window. The final wall, a small section to the side of the bed, was more eclectic. There were ornate fans mixed in with postcards from all over the world, each one neatly protected in its own small clip frame. Some of them looked quite old, and some of them very recent. They were from all parts of Australia, several of London and some of more obscure parts of Europe. Jack wondered whether people sent them to Phryne from their holidays, or whether she had bought them herself.

He looked at his watch. Phryne had been gone ten minutes already. He glanced around the room again. There was something missing, but he couldn’t quite immediately put his finger on what. He scanned the room once more observing all the items in the room. To the side of the bed was a vanity unit, with three large mirrors at angles. Items were haphazardly hanging from the mirrors – some feathers, an eye mask that he guessed she had worn for some sort of ‘masked ball’, a feather boa which he recognised as ‘Phoxy Heart’s’, a small collection of ornate silver boxes that he decided he wasn’t even going to touch, an absolute array of bottles of perfume and a small pile of makeup; foundation, lipstick, mascara he thought, a lot of partially empty bottles of nail polish.

He moved past the window once more, pausing to look out over the bay. The view was breath-taking, even at night. He could see the harbour quite clearly, with a bit of a lean he could glimpse the lights of the foreshore being reflected into the waters which occasionally cast sprays of white foam onto the sands which lined the far side of the road. He pinched himself, just to check it was all real, and not a fantastically elaborate dream. He wasn’t sure he’d mind if it was.

He moved back to the nude, he had no other language for it. There was a low chest of drawers in the space beneath the picture. The top was covered with pieces of paper, mostly personal, he thought, from the very quick peek he allowed himself. There was a laptop and numerous notepads, and a stack of Phryne’s business cards. He picked one up; “P. Fisher, HR Detection Services” it read, with a lot of contact details neatly set out underneath, including the business’ social media details. He noticed that it resolutely avoided giving any sort of job title.

He put the card back and noticed the smaller stack of cards next to the ones for the business. He picked a card up and considered it. The cardstock was an obviously much higher grade, and the print was embossed; “The Honourable Phryne Fisher” it read, “of Brockworth House, Glos” was printed underneath. He placed the card back precisely on the top of the stack. There was an even smaller stack of similar quality cards next to those; “The Honourable Phryne Fisher, of St. Kilda, Melbourne” read this one, with what he recognised as her personal mobile phone number printed to the bottom right. His brow furrowed, almost automatically.

Those two stacks were calling cards; he knew that from all those British period drama shows on TV that his mum was very keen on and that Rosie had always insisted on watching. He briefly panicked about the fact of Phryne having calling cards before reminding himself that somehow, he and Phryne had already been ‘seeing each other’ for about six weeks, and that things seemed to be going OK. She’d stayed over at his flat quite a few nights, and they were still going out on dates, and making an effort to fit each other into their busy lives.

He looked at the door to the bedroom; he didn’t think Phryne was coming back anytime soon. He retrieved his phone from his jacket as he looked around once more. There was no wardrobe – that was the odd thing. There was a door in the corner and wondered if she had some sort of ‘walk in wardrobe’. Slowly he turned the door handle and swung the door open. There was a light switch in the main bedroom and he flicked it on. The light buzzed into life and Jack realised that it wasn’t a wardrobe of any sort, but rather an en-suite bathroom. It had a shower and a sink and a toilet and an absolutely enormous bath, one of those vintage reproductions, he presumed, that were all the rage. It had rolled edges and claw-feet as supports. There was a window in the wall at the ‘tap end’ of the bath, with a net curtain hung across it. Jack crouched down and realised that from the bath a good view of the foreshore would be observed. Standing up he noticed a pile of the fluffiest towels he thought he had ever encountered. He reached his fingers to one and patted it experimentally. It practically bounced under his fingers. Jack assessed that the room was probably about the same size as his bathroom in his flat, and reassured himself that there was nothing at all unusual in that. A part of Jack’s brain decided to give him a break and not remind him that this was just an en-suite and that there must therefore be at least one other bathroom somewhere in the house.

Returning to the bedroom, Jack sat on the edge of the bed. As he considered taking his shoes off he glanced at the bedside table. There was a picture in a silver frame which Jack picked up to look at. It was of three women, hugging each other and grinning with beaming smiles, one obviously Phryne, one obviously Mac. They were much younger. He couldn’t be sure how old the picture was, but the clothes that Phryne and Mac were wearing looked like they were from the mid-nineties; leggings and baggy tops. Jack stared at the third woman. She looked somewhat familiar. He furrowed his brow in concentration and then realised – she looked like Jane. An older version of Jane, but the resemblance was obvious now. This then, he realised, must be Helen. They all looked so young and carefree. The picture was very closely cropped, and Jack had no idea where it had been taken. Phryne had mentioned trips back to Australia in that magazine article interview she’d given, maybe this was one of those times?

A smaller picture was next to that one, two girls, both posing awkwardly. The older one was no more than 7 or 8 maybe, the younger one so small he couldn’t even guess at her age. The photograph was shockingly poor quality, faded around the edges and with a tear across the bottom that had been ham-fistedly repaired, probably a long time ago Jack deduced from the yellow colour of the tape. He thought the older girl was Phryne, maybe, which, he presumed, would make the younger girl her sister, who she rarely spoke of. The few times Phryne had mentioned a sister she had always gone very quiet and had suddenly seemed very preoccupied and distant. He didn’t even know the girl’s name. Determining that this was a personal area he didn’t want to poke into, he looked away and refocused his attentions on his shoes.

Jack glanced at his watch. Phryne had been gone twenty minutes. The bed had really been incredibly comfortable, and Jack felt awkward about putting his shoes on the luxurious covers. He unlaced them, placing them by the armchair before returning back to the bed. Jack considered the huge number of pillows and cushions; he was confused as to why there were just so many of them. How many soft furnishings could one person need? Jack settled himself on the bed, and moved some of the cushions around on top of the covers. Oh, that really was very comfortable. Maybe there was some logic to the cushions after all. He dug his phone out of his pocket and idly scrolled through his Facebook.

His sisters and his brother had all posted photos from the previous weekend. There were lots of shots of his nephews and nieces, as they all enjoyed the Queen’s Birthday holiday long weekend. Everyone looked like they were having a great time. Jack tapped his phone against his chin in contemplation. All of his siblings were happily married, they’d all had kids; grandchildren for his mum to dote on and spoil rotten. The family photos were lined up along her mantelpiece, and Jack’s photo stuck out like a sore thumb for being just of him on the day he graduated from the police training academy. It was like the intervening thirteen years of his life had been erased from history. He saw his mum looking at him sometimes, especially at family Sunday lunches. The look was part concern, part pity.

Jack hoped his mum would be able to meet Phryne one day, although he suspected that ‘meeting the parent’ might be the sort of step to send Phryne into a knee-jerk reaction of fleeing for the hills. His mum would like Phryne, he thought. A small part of him recalled with resignation that his mum knew who Phryne was. The coverage of ‘the Harry situation’ had made the local papers, given that Phryne was ‘local interest’, and Jack had endured a particularly uncomfortable Sunday lunch two days after his first date with Phryne when his mum had insisted on showing him all the articles from all the local papers talking about the Royal Wedding, and Prince Harry and the ‘probable secret girlfriend’. Jack had decided to adopt the approach of suggesting that the chances of Prince Harry having a girlfriend who lived in Melbourne were unlikely at best. He’d been as caddish as to suggest that a woman nine years older than the Prince was almost certainly not going to secretly be the next Duchess-of-wherever. He thanked a deity he didn’t believe in that his mum didn’t have internet access; if she’d seen that video he’d have been mortified.

Perhaps, he considered, he should admit to his mum that he knew Phryne? Perhaps, if he disclosed that he worked with her sometimes, and that they were friends, he could build his mum up to their situation slowly? He was getting ahead of himself, he thought. This was all still very new, and he knew he wanted it to continue, but he didn’t know how Phryne felt. She’d promised that she wouldn’t arbitrarily end things, but he couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t just turn around one day and tell him that she’d had tremendous fun, and a lovely time, but that it was over. Jack knew that Phryne needed to be comfortable with him, and the idea of them, if he was ever going to be able to introduce her to his family. He knew she avoided emotional intimacy, but it felt like she was opening herself up to him slowly. It seemed like she was comfortable with him; she’d stayed over at his, and he’d got the impression she didn’t usually do that, and now she’d left him on his own in her room whilst she dealt with her…

Jack’s train of thought faltered. Phryne effectively had a daughter. A teenage daughter. He knew it wasn’t quite like that of course, but that was the reality of it as far as most of the world would be concerned.

He looked at his phone again; all those pictures of his very traditional family. It was what he had expected would be his life – what his family all assumed would be his life – married, kids, career ladder, gardening, barbecues. But his life hadn’t worked out like that at all. He clicked through to his own profile, and then to the photos tab. The pictures were of him with Phryne, him with Mac, him with all of the rag tag bunch of people who Phryne had surrounded herself with, at her house on the day of the wedding. There were other photos; of him being Uncle Jack, of him with his mates at the footy, with his team at cycle races. It was very far from ‘traditional’, but it felt like a family of sorts. He looked up at the picture on the wall of the naked woman his internal monologue was starting to describe as his ‘girlfriend’ and was struck by how very unpredictable his life had become.

He clicked to the top of his feed, and decided to post a rare status update:

 

_Who was it who said ‘Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans’? Strange the places life can take you when you were never expecting it._

 

As he watched his phone process the update he noticed the time – Phryne had now been gone over half an hour. He decided he might as well remove his socks, his waistcoat and his tie. Phryne had a head start on him in the clothes removal; catching up to her wouldn’t do any harm.

He returned back to the bed once more and flopped down. He shifted his weight on the mattress, testing it for firmness. The springs squeaked slightly and Jack looked at the bedroom door in alarm, worried that someone might burst in and discover him here. There were indeed noises coming from the hallway, and Jack wondered whether he should hide.

The door opened cautiously as Phryne returned. Jack released the breath he had been holding and smiled. “Everything OK?” he asked.

Phryne leant against the back of the door, pushing it firmly shut with her bottom. She raised her hands to her face, covering her eyes as she spoke. “Oh god, it has begun. Boys!” she added, as if that explained everything.

Jack swallowed heavily. “If you get me a name and an idea of where they live I can have them arrested inside 45 minutes.”

Phryne giggled. “Hmm, thank you for the offer Jack, but it’s nothing like that. Although I’ll bear it in mind for if it ever is. No, this is, well, there’s a boy she likes, and she thinks he likes her and apparently there was a party over the weekend and there might have been ‘a bit of kissing’ whilst a fireworks display was on, and now he’s being weird, and her friend Ruth is teasing her about it and it’s all the end of the world.”

“What did you say to that?”

“Well I contemplated urging her to consider lesbianism. If Mac’s anything to go by they’re all very blunt about it all. But I actually suggested that maybe she should try talking to the boy; ask him what’s going on and why he’s being weird.”

“The answer to which is ‘because he’s a teenage boy’, and if he can even walk straight with the hormones rushing around his body he’s doing well.”

Pushing herself off the back of the door she walked over to the bed. She resumed her position straddling him. “Hmm, Jack…” she started, noting that he’d lost a quantity of his clothing as she started to loosen his shirt buttons. She fluttered her eyelids closed for the briefest of seconds as Jack ran his hands up Phryne’s thighs. “Is it that unnerving? Being a teenage boy?”

Jack chortled. “And then some. What’s it like being a teenage girl?”

“Petrifying. You have no clue what’s happening with your body, or your emotions or why you feel the way you do or anything. You can know all the theory in the world, but when it’s happening to you it’s a complete unknown.”

“Easy to see why it’s the end of the world when a boy kisses you. And is then _weird_ about it.”

“Well at least he didn’t kiss her whilst undercover in The Domain and _then_ act odd about it.” Phryne stilled in horror at herself. “Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You kissed me.” said Jack, in a playful tone of false indignation, reminding himself that he had tried to resist.

“And you kissed me back!”

Jack paused the movements of his fingers over the silk. “Phryne, I owe you an apology for that. I was married and it should never have happened.” Jack had felt guilty about the incident for months after. Kissing Phryne had confirmed to him that his marriage was not in a good place. Kissing a woman who was not his wife should not have made him feel the way he had that afternoon and he should have been able to resist.

“Did it make any difference? Kissing me?” Phryne cut into his thoughts.

“To what?” Jack furrowed his brow.

“To whatever was going on with your marriage at that point?” Phryne had let him off with the ‘and we’re undercover’ excuse at the time. She had no idea how a marriage worked, but she was fairly sure that an entirely happily married man wouldn’t have kissed her like that, undercover ruse or not.

"I don’t think so. The pressure of the whole situation was already driving us apart, if I’m brutally honest with myself.”

“Well there’s no apology needed. I didn’t know that you were married. I’d have come up with another distraction if I had. But I have to ask what made you kiss me back so passionately?”

Jack grimaced slightly, swirling the silk of the robe between the pads of his fingers. “I’m not sure. _It_ wasn’t great, by then, and I kind of felt like the affection wasn’t really there, you know? I mean, I have to tell you, at that point, if I’d been undercover with, oh I don’t know, Collins say, and he’d kissed me the way you did, I’d have probably kissed him back with as much fervour as I did with you.”

Phryne leant back and raised an eyebrow in question.

"Not that I’m into Collins, obviously.” Jack added.

“Are you sure Jack. I mean, have you ever _really_ considered it?”

Jack looked at her and met her raised eyebrow with one of his own. “I definitely just like women. But I recognise that a man might have to be flexible in times of absolute crisis.” He tilted his head in a manner that Phryne took as philosophical and slightly teasing.

“The affection wasn’t there?” asked Phryne with concern as she paused her efforts to remove Jack’s clothes, focusing instead on intensely fiddling with one button.

Jack grimaced before speaking slowly. That had been a very unsettling time. “When you’re lying in bed at night, listening to your wife silently seeth at you because you can’t give her the one thing she really wants, or you hear her crying, because another month has rolled around and she’s not pregnant, and you try and just hold her, and get pushed away, it starts to feel like everything you thought you had together isn’t enough. This _one_ thing is everything. And, all the focus is on her, and how she’s feeling. And that’s understandable, but just, I was upset too, and I needed her to hold me as much as I needed to just hold her, and tell her that we’d find a way. And that lack of, the little things, built up and built up until we were barely even talking to each other. And yet still _trying_ … I thought it really was the end of the world. Turns out I was very wrong.”

Phryne looked solemn and released the button she had been stroking. “We should make sure we always talk. I mean, I should demonstrate good practice to Jane, at least.”

“Won’t that mean telling her about this?” Jack said as he stroked his hands across her hips.

“Hmm. Hmm. I suspect, Jack, that you want to shout about this from the rooftops, when you’re not wondering what the hell you’ve got yourself into. And I’m, getting there, on that one Jack. And thank you for not trying to push me into anything. I will tell her, but I’m still adjusting to what this means. To what we are, I suppose.”

Jack stroked his fingers up the edge of the robe, brushing Phryne’s still unbuttoned blouse underneath. “I’m rather liking what we are,” he said, tentatively.

“So am I,” said Phryne, rubbing the pad of her finger over Jack’s shirt button once more. She would probably wear it free of the thread holding it to the material if she carried on, she thought.

“But yes, we should always talk about, well, anything, I guess.” Jack rubbed his thumbs around Phryne’s waist.

“Well. This got serious.” Phryne said, as she freed the last of Jack’s shirt buttons from its fastening.

Jack tilted his head slightly as he dragged the knot on the belt of Phryne’s robe free. “Well at least it didn’t get _weird_.”

Phryne dipped down and kissed him. “Really? Not even slightly weird? I thought it might have got slightly weird?”

“Phryne?”

“Yes Jack?”

"Could we get back to the kissing?”

A twinkle sparkled in Phryne’s eye as they did just that.

  


Jack crept from her room at Six Thirty the next morning, tip-toeing down the stairs, shoes hanging from his fingers, a giggling Phryne creeping down the stairs behind him as he slipped from her house in the breaking daylight.

 


	9. Saturday 18th June

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But wait - they know, and we know, but they don't know that we know!

Jack tried not to overly crowd Phryne after the killer launched a stage weight at her from the fly tower, and he fought against his natural instincts to hold her to him very tightly as he covered her supine body where he’d pushed her to the floor of the stage to avoid injury. He was perilously close to forgetting entirely their understanding that at a crime scene, which was his work, they would be utterly professional. Forcing himself to call her ‘Miss Fisher’ as he helped her up he managed to cover the incident by declaring loudly, and for the benefit of anyone who might be listening that he hoped she didn’t have a head injury or whiplash from the fall. In the wings Dot and Hugh studied Hugh’s notebook intensely.

“Are we still pretending we don’t know?” Hugh asked, looked scared. His boss had been very chipper over the last month or so but it had taken Dot spelling it out to him for him to realise that his DI and Miss Fisher were involved. His desire to avoid saying anything he shouldn’t was making him even more nervous than he usually was.

“We are.” Dot sighed. She had, well, _connected the dots_ with everything Hugh had related to her, and her own observations, and drawn what she was very sure was the correct conclusion. The clincher had been when Phryne had begun arriving at work not just ‘on time’ but early. As the boss, Phryne could set her own timetable, and usually failed to make it into the office much before Ten am. Since she had been back from London, Dot had taken notice of Hugh’s shift pattern, which tended to match that of Inspector Robinson’s, and noted, after about a month, that Phryne would turn up early on mornings when Hugh and the Inspector had an early start. Plainly, Phryne was staying at wherever it was the Inspector lived and leaving when he did. Which was obviously earlier than Phryne was usually out of bed. Much earlier.

“Why are we pretending we don’t know?”

Dot sighed. She did love Hugh, and he was becoming a very good detective, but he did have certain blind spots. “Because they must want to keep it quiet.”

“But it’s very obvious. I mean, now you’ve told me, Dottie.”

“It is Hugh, and I’m sure they’ll say something when they’re ready. But for now, we pretend we don’t know.” Dot decided that she may as well take advantage of the Inspector’s distraction pulling Hugh to the wall and kissing him before slinking out of the Stage Door, wandering back ten minutes later with a coffee for Phryne, and a look of total innocence on her face.

 

 


	10. Monday 20th June - Ruddy Gore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Age cannot wither her...

It had taken them until early evening to gather everyone together for a somewhat overblown ‘reveal’, Jack thought. The killer was hauled off by Collins and Jackson whilst Jack took final statements and Phryne officially passed the credit for the solution to Jack. Really, Jack thought, the use of the hologram had been inspired, but perhaps a tad over-dramatic.

Occasionally Jack liked a nice open and shut domestic stabbing or shooting with a restricted and obvious suspect pool and a good, clear motive. But he didn’t get to work with Phryne on those, and she could always be relied on to lighten the tensest of atmospheres. Plus, when it came to unusual cases, her knowledge of all sorts of obscure areas was often invaluable. Jack had a fair thirst for knowledge himself, but life had not afforded him as much time to spend on education as it had Phryne. Her knowledge of theatrical techniques had helped her to figure out how their killer had scared the life out of his first two victims. Holograms. Ridiculous.  And really, Jack wondered, when **had** they turned into _their_ cases?

He’d left her sat on the edge of the stage, deep in thought. Hiding in the shadows of the wings, he was about to call out to her when he heard a voice in the auditorium.

“Silver Lady!”

Jack swallowed as Phryne looked up and a beaming smile spread across her face. “Lin!” she was plainly delighted to see him.

Lin made his way down the aisle, stopping in front of Phryne and bowing slightly. This entire world was very overdramatic, Jack thought. And how did a bloke who ran a chain of Chinese restaurants, and admittedly, a host of other businesses, end up owning one of the oldest theatres in Melbourne? Maybe it was the proximity to Chinatown? Lin owned a lot of property, Jack knew that. Not that he’d looked into him. No, that was a lie, he sighed to himself. He’d researched Lin Chung, two years ago, when Jack had been separated, not yet divorced, but already intrigued by Phryne. He’d not been so rash as to think anything could happen between him and her at that point, not even been sure how he might feel about anyone at all, and he’d tried not to act like a jealous pillock whenever he saw her swanning off with a bloke. But that didn’t mean he’d liked it, and he’d looked into the backgrounds of the more obvious ones, just to see if he could identify whether she had a ‘type’. She didn’t.

Jack leant against the Stage Manager’s desk, watching. Phryne bent forwards and kissed Lin’s cheek lightly.

“Phryne, it is delightful to see you. I trust you have dealt with matters discreetly?” asked Lin.

“Discretion assured, Lin, you know that.” Replied Phryne, sitting on her hands.

He nodded towards her. “Would you like to accompany me to supper, to celebrate?”

Phryne paused. “Will Camellia be there?”

Lin tensed his lips, “She will not.”

“Then I am afraid, Lin, that I am unavailable” Phryne said, with a tilt of her head and what appeared to Jack to be a battering of her eyelids.

Jack pushed away from the desk and wandered slowly onto the stage, stopping as he reached the proscenium arch support furthest from Phryne and Lin. “Ah, Miss Fisher, this is where you’ve been hiding.”

Phryne turned her gaze towards him and smiled, “Ja… Inspector Robinson. I have indeed been here. You recall Mr Lin?”

“I do, I do.”

Lin looked between Phryne and Jack. The way Phryne was looking at Inspector Robinson was the way she’d looked at him once. “I apologise, Phryne. I was unaware.” He spoke quietly.

Phryne quirked an eyebrow in confusion, leading Lin to nod slightly towards Jack, who was now leaning on the arch trying to avoid over-hearing Phryne and Lin’s conversation.

“But a police officer, Phryne, really? I thought they were all incompetent buffoons?”

Phryne sighed, smiling slightly, “I’m fairly sure those were your words, Lin. He’s a good man. Who just happens to work for the police.”

“Are the man and the detective so distinct?”

“Lin, none of us is who the world thinks we are at a first glance.”

“Well that is true, Phryne Fisher, The Honourable Lady.”

“Indeed, Lin, the happily married man.” Phryne smiled again. For Lin she was prepared to be gentle with her rebuffal. He knew all her rules and had challenged her on many of them. He had almost led her to reconsider her avoidance of commitment, but in the end, it had not been meant to be. He had come on too strong, too soon, with too much pressure to want to conform.

“Camellia is pregnant, and other than work, she does not wish to leave the house.”

“Congratulations Lin. Jane hasn’t said anything.”

“We are keeping it quiet, for a while.”

“Ah. I understand. And hence the invitation to supper?”

“Indeed. Is there no hope?”

Phryne looked towards Jack, who smiled at her. He was a very good man and she was feeling herself, what _was_ that, was it _falling for him_? Certainly she _felt_ something, which was a development for her. She suspected Jack _felt_ something too, the way he looked at her sometimes, and she could see him biting his tongue and holding himself back. Phryne was grateful for his restraint. She had no language for how she felt when she was with Jack. It was different to how it ever had been with anyone else. Different to how it had been with Lin, whom she had liked, very much, and different from Ronnie, who she had said she’d loved. Now, she wasn’t so sure if she really had loved Ronnie, or had just thought she had. He hadn’t loved her, not to act the way he had, done the things he’d done, treated her the way he had. It was all so confusing, she thought.

Turning back to Lin she swiped a finger gently down his cheek, coming to rest beneath his jaw. Leaning forwards once more, she kissed him softly on the cheek, lingering longer this time. “No hope whatsoever Lin. Now go home to your wife, and care for her and your child.”

Lin gripped her hand, in a half shake, half squeeze. “Farewell Silver Lady. It was an honour, and a pleasure.”

Mirroring Lin’s earlier movement, Phryne half bent her head in acknowledgement, “likewise, Lin.”

Lin bowed towards her once more, stepped back, and turned towards Jack, acknowledging him with another small bow. Lin swept off through one of the many doors lining the auditorium, leaving Jack and Phryne alone on the stage.

Pushing himself off the arch, Jack moved towards Phryne.

“Another successful case.”

“Indeed, Jack. A shame about the play.”

“Suspicious bunch, actors.”

“Well you'd be suspicious - all the best plays have a ghost. As do all the best theatres. Just perhaps not quite so corporeal, in the end?” Phryne smiled.

“I always thought our killer was much more likely to be flesh and blood,” said Jack.

“But a ghost would have been entertaining.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Really Jack?”

“Really Phryne. Disembodied souls, just, hanging around? I think not.”

“Hmm.” said Phryne, “well perhaps.” She went quiet again.

“Mr Lin looked at you in a very, reflective manner.” Said Jack, choosing his words carefully.

“Well yes.” Said Phryne, pulling her hands from underneath her and brushing down the skirt of her close fitting dress. It was one of the ‘smart business’ numbers today, a very dark navy, with a matching knee-length trench coat over it. How she could ever run in those shoes Jack would never know, but he adored the thud they made when they hit the wood of his bedroom floor. Her next words interrupted his meandering thoughts. “I do find that’s what tends to happen when one is a person’s final fling before they settle down. You’re a memory. A very pleasant memory, but one that they’re often reminded of when they see you.”

“Oh” said Jack. He was coming to realise that Phryne viewed sex very differently from how he did. Phryne smiled up at him.

“It was two years ago. His wife is Jane’s Mandarin teacher.”

“What a small world.” Said Jack, huffing out his breath.

“It was semi-arranged, as I understand it. Which they were both in agreement with. And they’re very happy.”

“And you could both just walk away, from each other?” Jack asked.

“We could. There was very little emotional involvement.” At least not on her part, Phryne mused. Why couldn’t men be honest? For all that she had liked Lin, very much, she had known she didn’t want anything serious with him. She had told him that and he had said he understood. And then he had tried to change their understanding. It was why she had resisted Jack for so long; she knew he _was_ serious, and would fall into _emotional involvement_ very quickly. It had taken Harry and his bluntness to make her realise that with Jack there was _already_ some emotion on her part. Tentatively she was opening herself up to being with Jack, and so far, she was finding it less frightening than she had envisioned. Indeed, so far it had all been fairly plain sailing, she thought.

“So why did you…?” Jack made a sweeping gesture with his arm which Phryne decided to interpret as ‘sleep with him’.

Honesty was her watchword here, as always. “Because he was an itch I needed to scratch. At the time.”

“Oh.”

He looked slightly despondent, she thought. “Jack, I’m seeing you. I said I’m never unfaithful. But I will not be embarrassed about my past, and neither will I hide it.” He’d been very reserved about _prying_ , she thought. And he was different to the others. She took a deep breath and decided it was time to offer him something she had offered to no man before.  “If you ever want to know, you only have to ask.”

“I’m not sure I’m ever going to want to know.”

“But know that you can ask, Jack. I won’t be offended, and I will always tell you the truth.” She tried not to falter over the last words. _The truth_ was often something Phryne avoided, but they had agreed, the other night, that they would always talk about things. And at some point, he’d be curious, she just knew it. Better to give him permission now and avoid him wondering and festering later. "You should always feel you can tell me the truth as well" she added, just to make herself utterly clear. 

Jack nodded and hummed as he considered this. It felt like Phryne was opening up to him. It felt like that had been happening quite a lot in these last few weeks. He was fairly sure that leaving him in her room on his own for quite as long as she had the other night had been unusual for her, and the offer to share all of her past also felt like it was a deepening of the trust that he felt was developing between them. He glanced at his watch. It had been a whole twenty four hours since he had kissed her. Far too long, he admonished himself. It briefly occurred to him to wonder whether her kisses contained some sort of addictive narcotic substance, such was the hunger with which he was drawn to them.

“Did you enjoy your performance?” he asked, loosening the buttons on his jacket, noting as he did that Phryne’s pupils dilated slightly. He could tell that even in the reduced lighting. He really was becoming quite observant around her, he thought.

“Can one enjoy an attempt on one’s life?”

“I’m not sure _one_ can” Jack said, a teasing tone in his voice.

“But you seemed to be enjoying watching me, until then?”

“Well I appreciate your skills Phryne.”

“Hmm” she considered Jack, who had now moved to the centre of the stage.  “Can I persuade you to demonstrate _your_ skills Jack?” she asked.

“Oh I’m fairly sure I don’t have any.” Jack gave a dismissive shake of his head.

“Now I’m not sure I believe that at all.”

Jack raised his eyebrows quizzically.

“I’ve seen the well-thumbed volumes on your shelf Jack: The Complete Shakespeare; the collection of theatre programmes stashed in all the narrow nooks and crannies. I’m sure you must have read something out loud, even just once, even just to yourself.” She smouldered, deliberately as she spoke the final words.

“And if I have?” asked Jack, cursing his inability to fail to rise to her bait.

“Well if you wanted to give something a run out now, audience of one, Jack. I’m a very generous critic.”

Jack laughed to himself, “Shakespeare?”

“Well it is _the_ classic Jack.”

“Hmm.” She was looking at him so eagerly. “The thing about Shakespeare,” he said, “ is that you need to really engage with your audience.”

Phryne leaned back onto her hands. “Well engage away Jack.” She smiled.

Jack tilted his head briefly from side to side, as if in consideration. Phryne tried not to jump with surprise when Jack lowered himself to the floor of the stage, positioning himself immediately to her left, before sitting with one leg dangling off the stage next to Phryne. He briefly shut his eyes to compose himself. It occurred to him that this was possibly risky and probably slightly muddying the boundaries of ‘not at a crime scene’. Opening his eyes he fixed his gaze on hers as he reached for her hand, swirling the pad of his thumb across her wrist.

Phryne sat up straight, plainly Jack did not mess around when it came to Shakespeare. He began to speak softly and Phryne found herself holding her breath as he did.

“Age cannot wither her.” He moved his hand, caressing Phryne’s cheek. He saw her eyelids flutter shut briefly before they snapped open to meet his gaze once more. “Nor custom stale her infinite variety.” He cupped her chin in his hand, running his outstretched thumb across her jawline. “Other women cloy the appetites they feed,” he paused and leaned forwards to press his lips to her cheek. Moving only fractionally away from her he murmured softly, “but she makes hungry where most she satisfies.”

He pressed his lips to hers, pulling her to him as he deepened the kiss. He ran one hand down to her thigh, the other wrapping itself around her back. Phryne was responding to the kiss with an intensity that Jack found arousing in itself. As his hand caressed her thigh he felt the outline of _something_ underneath the dress. He was fairly sure that was a suspender, and Jack’s mind jumped to the possibility that she was wearing stockings. His fingers stilled and he broke the kiss.

“Is that what you’d call a modern interpretation?” Phryne gasped.

“Phryne,” he murmured.

Phryne looked at him. His pupils were dilated so much they were pools of black, and he appeared to be struggling to control his breathing.

“Do you have to go back to SKR?” she asked.

“Not tonight.” Jack replied, scraping a fingernail down her neck. She tried not to whimper.


	11. Monday 20th June - Ruddy Nora!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You remember how Jack's mum said he thinks about stuff too much?
> 
> Yeah, Jack really thinks about stuff. His mum should never, ever find out about a lot of it!

Phryne was trying to find her front door key in her handbag as Jack slid his hand across her waist, his lips pressing butterfly kisses to her neck. “Jack!” She implored, softly. His response was a low growl. Phryne could feel arousal spiking within her. As she finally got the door open she turned to Jack, “Would you like to… oh” she failed to complete the question as Jack swiftly moved over the threshold, closed the door behind them and spun Phryne so she was pushed back against the inside of the door. He was kissing her neck, nibbling on her earlobe and caressing her hips and waist with a keenness that Phryne found intriguing. What had come over him?

She tried to speak again, “Would you like to come upstairs?”

“No time” responded Jack, pulling her hips to his, allowing her to feel his very obvious erection.

“Oh” breathed Phryne. She kissed him, deeply, encouraging him to grind against her.

Jack’s lust-filled mind manoeuvred Phryne in the direction of her lounge. Taking the hint she moved swiftly as they staggered through the doors of the room, bumping into the edge of Phryne’s chaise. They flailed for the piece of furniture, and Phryne found herself underneath Jack, who was attempting to grapple his jacket free from his arms. Phryne helped him wrench himself from the garment, managing to place it on the floor next to them fairly tidily. He broke from the kiss. “Can you get your knickers off quickly?” he asked.

Phryne thanked the stars that when she’d dressed this morning she’d gone for the ‘vintage-esque’ small French knickers, rather than the usual skin-hugging scrap of lace and nodded, unable to fathom the change from Jack’s usual demeanour. He shoved the skirt of her dress upwards, yanking her knickers down before balling them up and nudging them into his trouser pocket. Stockings, he confirmed to himself. Oh god, stockings! Delicate and black with a gauzy top and held up by black suspenders with tiny white bows at the fastenings. Positioning himself between her legs, Jack looked at Phryne spread before him and ducked down, kissing his lips to the small section of exposed skin of her inner thigh. Her arousal was obvious. It was no use, he could no longer resist, and neither did he want to. Throwing aside all his reservations, he pressed his lips to Phryne’s labia, before parting them with his fingers and flicking his tongue over her clit.

“Oh, god,” groaned Phryne, her eyes practically on stalks. Jack had never done that before. She’d been wondering if he was ever going to. He suckled on her clit once more and Phryne tried not to buckle with sheer pleasure. Jack stroked his tongue up and down her folds before returning his attentions to her clit once more. “Oh Jack, yes!” she panted, feeling herself becoming damper the more Jack continued.

Jack paused in his movements, the tip of his tongue resting against her clit and looked up at Phryne. Their eyes met as Phryne struggled to control herself. Keeping his eyes locked on hers he swirled his tongue around in a small circular pattern. Phryne felt the first wave of an orgasm hitting her, the sight of Jack with his head buried between her thighs tipping her over the edge. She needed him. Now.

She smiled, a thoroughly sinful half-grin, and reached for Jack’s jacket on the floor. “Wallet?” she asked.

“Inside pocket.”

She extracted the soft, worn leather wallet. “Where?”

“At the back.” Jack managed to say, his senses overwhelmed. She tasted magnificent, even better than the time back at his flat when he’d licked her juices from his fingers. She was so responsive it astounded him sometimes, and this was the most enthusiastic he thought he had ever known her. He was fairly sure she’d just come, a little, certainly there was a trail of juices running from her, coating her in a slickness that Jack relished he had helped to cause.

Phryne fiddled for the condom, tossing the wallet to the floor once she found it. She used her free hand to pull Jack up by his waistcoat. She kissed him, tasting herself on his lips. She hummed in appreciation.

Hearing the sound sent Jack’s desire spiking even more. Both of them fumbled for his trousers, freeing the button and the zip and pushing them and his briefs down no further than was absolutely necessary. Phryne moved quickly, rolling the condom down his cock, which had become very hard, very quickly - much more quickly than Phryne had become familiar with. The minute part of her mind still capable of rational thought told herself that this was the first time he’d let her put the condom on his cock for him. Which hadn’t been for want of her offering. She moved her hand, using it to guide him into her. Oh god he was so hard, she could feel the pressure inside her building once more.

Jack thrust into her, all his usual carefulness abandoned. He didn’t stop moving as Phryne raised her hips up to meet his, matching his rhythm and movements. He felt himself reach the point of no return and loudly cried out as he came. Realising that Phryne was still approaching another orgasm he slid his cock out of her deliciously moist warmth and thrust his fingers inside her instead. He continued twisting and moving his fingers, and pressed his thumb roughly to her clit, applying pressure to the sensitive tip. He moved his head and latched onto one of Phryne’s breasts, not caring that he was also sucking on the material of her dress. He stroked his thumb once more and Phryne fell apart around his fingers. His name escaped from her lips in a guttural tone, and her neck lengthened as she felt every muscle in her body tense before releasing as one.

As she lay panting on the chaise, Phryne found herself genuinely shocked by this turn of events. What the fuck else had Jack been holding back from her?

Jack came back to himself shortly after Phryne, freeing his mouth from her dress as he stretched the muscles of his jaw. He looked at Phryne who had an expression on her face that he felt might be anger. “Oh god, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Shit. Sorry.” He said. His brain attempted to calm itself and wondered how he was supposed to find the words to apologise for fucking her on her chaise, with none of the usual tenderness and care, both of them virtually fully-clothed, the whole affair concluded in what he reckoned to be less than five minutes.

“Where in the hell did that come from?” Phryne asked.

“Sorry.”

“No, tell me, I want to know.”

Jack gulped. “I saw the outline of your suspenders when we were kissing at the theatre, and it just, I don’t know…”

“You got the raging horn?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Oh there is no need to apologise Jack,” said Phryne, stroking her fingers over his back.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Jack hesitated. “Why don’t I need to apologise? That was… not how we usually are.”

Phryne considered Jack, and his sense of self-esteem, which she suspected was still somewhat fragile on occasion. “How we usually are is great, Jack. It’s tender and, loving,” she tried not to allow herself to over-think her use of that word, “and a lot of fun, I think we can agree?”

Jack nodded his head silently.

“But sometimes, Jack, it’s more than fine for it to be like it just was.”

“Really?”

“Hmm, really.” Phryne responded, shuffling her shoulders into the arm of the chaise.

“It was very quick. I was very quick.”

“And I’m fairly sure you noticed that so was I.”

“You look, shocked?” Jack asked, trying to gauge what exactly her expression was.

“I am, a bit.”

“It doesn’t seem like that’s a bad thing?”

“It’s not.”

“Oh.” Jack took a moment to consider things. He tried to tidy himself up as he did, and fumbled for his handkerchief in his pocket to wipe his fingers. He adjusted his trousers with as much elegance as he could muster.

He spoke again. “The bit where, I erm,” he shut his eyes, “licked your clit.”

“Yes Jack?”

“How do you feel about that?” It came out slightly more high-pitched than Jack had been expecting.

“Well I came almost instantly.” Said Phryne, trying very hard to keep any hint of teasing or smoulder away from her tone.

“So you liked that then? That was OK?” Rosie hadn’t liked it. Or had at least claimed not to. ‘Too slow, Jack’ she’d said, ‘not really relevant to the task in hand’, she’d said. It had made the discovery of her in his- their- _his_ kitchen smart that little bit more.

Phryne tried not to let her expression betray her, she knew this was a touchy area for Jack, and she was fairly sure she was going to scowl viciously at Jack’s ex-wife if she ever met her again. What in the hell had the woman done to him? “I liked that, very much. I’d like it if you did it again. And at some point, I’d like to return the favour.”

“Oh.” Jack thought about that for a moment. Surprising himself with his own stamina he felt his cock beginning to harden at the imagined prospect of Phryne looking up at him from beneath her deliciously long eyelashes and smiling as she took him into her mouth.

“I mean, if you’d like me to?” added Phryne, her words dragging Jack back to the here and now.

“Yes.” Said Jack, nodding his head minutely but enthusiastically.

Phryne smiled at him and pulled him to her, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Can I just ask about the fact that we’re on your, erm, chaise?” Jack stroked Phryne’s waist as he avoided making direct eye-contact.

“Yes?” Phryne wasn’t sure where Jack was going with this particular line of questioning.

“That’s OK too?” he queried.

“It is.”

Jack fell silent.

Phryne saw the cogs whirring in Jack’s mind. “What are you thinking?”

Jack looked at her. ‘The truth’ she had said earlier. “So, if it’s OK here, is it OK other places too?”

“Such as?” Phryne was intrigued. How rampantly did Jack’s imagination run?

Jack took a deep breath before he spoke, fighting against every fibre of his upbringing that was telling him he shouldn’t have thoughts like this, like any of it. His words became quicker as he continued. “My sofa, my dining table, my dining chairs – although I’m not sure if that’s too tricky, my patio, possibly my roof but I’m not sure how overlooked it is, your window seat, your dining table, your dining chairs which I think is more feasible for those ones that have the arms, your piano, your kitchen worktop, your bath, your shower, oh – my shower, that arm chair in the corner of your bedroom, the rug in here and I seem to recall there’s a rather sturdy desk in your study over there?” Jack indicated with a sharp flick of his head towards the room across the hallway.

Phryne tried not to let her jaw drop. “I think you forgot your coffee table.”

“Would that be possible? It’s quite low to the ground?”

“I’m sure I can think of a way,” said Phryne, thinking of at least two as she spoke.

“I mean, I was fairly sure you were OK with sofas, but…”

“Indeed. Can I add two suggestions?”

Jack nodded once more.

“My car. Your car.”

“Is that feasible?”

“Requires a little planning in terms of my outfit, but yes, Jack, entirely feasible.”

“Oh god” murmured Jack, his mind blown with the fact that Phryne had not only not admonished him for his very ideas, but had added to them. He almost wondered why he was surprised.

“Anywhere else?” asked Phryne, a twinkle in her eye. She was rather pleased that they were having this little talk, it seemed that Jack did indeed have quite the imagination, and her own was now updating itself, contemplating all the various places her and Jack could ravish each other.

Jack swallowed heavily. “Well, there’s quite a lot that would require me to arrest myself for public indecency, if they ever happened.”

“Such as?”

Jack looked at Phryne nervously.

“Oh this I _have_ to hear Jack. Don’t be shy.”

Jack nodded, “Well. Right. Erm, pretty much every public park between here and my flat. The beach out there. Under every pier or jetty and against the side of every beach hut between here and Brighton Beach. At my gym. In a _lot_ of different parts of my cycle club clubhouse. And I do harbour thoughts of ravishing you senseless in one of the Executive Boxes at The G whilst Abbotsford beat the arse off Collingwood with you wearing that Abbotsford Singlet you’ve got. Possibly whilst you’re wearing _just_ that singlet. But I think I’m fairly buggered for that one really, Abbotsford are having a shocking bloody run.”

“I believe I have pointed out I’m a lapsed Magpie, Jack.”

“Doesn't matter. I’ve tried to rationalise what I’m thinking about with that one, and I can’t ever get past the image of you in that top.”

“I can see that you’ve put some thought into all of this.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Do _not_ apologise Jack. That all sounds rather interesting. Although obviously we will have to find a way to avoid you having to arrest yourself. That really would be front page news.” She smiled at him. “Now, where are my knickers?”

Jack looked at her sheepishly before producing the small piece of what he noticed now appeared to be silk from his trouser pocket. He offered them to her tentatively, noting the smile on her face as she plucked them from his fingers.

Phryne extracted herself from the chaise, unwrapping her legs from where they were still rested either side of Jack. She found her handbag where it had been abandoned on the floor underneath Jack’s jacket, handing the final piece of his suit to him.

She wriggled past him, heading for the hallway. When she reached the doorway she turned and framed herself with her arms raised up. “Now Jack, about my shower…”

 

 


	12. Monday 25th July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death Comes Knocking.
> 
> I have taken some major liberties with the original story in updating this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SKR - St Kilda Road - the large police station complex where Jack is based.

As Jack parked his car and reached into the glove compartment for his ‘Police’ parking permit, his mobile phone vibrated. Jack sighed as he retrieved the phone from his pocket. He was utterly unsurprised to discover that his phone was advising him of a notification from Phryne’s Twitter account. Where was it today, he wondered with a smile?

 

** Always an excellent place to come with a friend! #StKildaBotanicalGardens **

Attached was a picture of the small gardens near to her house. He shook his head slightly. This had become ridiculous. Ever since their conversation on her chaise a month or so earlier she had taken to tormenting him with Tweets of various parks, venues, buildings and any other location she could think of that two people could conceivably engage in ‘indecent activity’. Some of the descriptions had contained some frankly imaginative variants on ‘coming with a friend’. She was subtle though, she’d never mentioned him in any of the Tweets. He’d favourite some of them, which had led to some very free and frank conversations. They hadn’t actually explored any of the options as yet. Well, it was winter Jack mused. But she had been so enthusiastic and so glowing in her descriptions of some of the sites that Visit Melbourne was now following her and retweeting her frequently.

Ordinarily Jack would have been horrified that something so potentially personal was being publically broadcast, but she was undertaking the exercise with such joy and humour that Jack found himself wanting to make some more outlandish suggestions himself. It was leading to their sexual activities becoming slowly more adventurous. And she’d been right about the coffee table. That had been an outstanding evening, as she had sunk to her knees on his rug, bent over, braced her arms on the fibreboard of the coffee table and thrown a look at him over her shoulder that said ‘come hither’ as much as the actual words “so Jack, ready to christen another piece of furniture?” had.

He composed himself and exited the car, making his way to the crime scene.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

“Now, that is unusual.” Jack said, moving around behind the FS Photographer.

“Yes Sir. He was found by the Facilities Manager at Eight AM when he came in to prepare for today’s meetings,” reported Collins, glancing at his notebook.

Jack looked at the corpse, squatting to try to see the specifics more closely. “Has he been garrotted?” Jack asked.

“It looks that way Sir, yes. Although obviously…” responded Collins.

“We’ll need to get the coroner’s report.”

“Indeed.”

“Where is everyone?” asked Jack, standing back up and looking around.

“In the back room Sir.”

Jack nodded in acknowledgement of the information, considering the corpse still. “Do we know where the rest of his clothes are?”

“Folded neatly on a chair over there Sir.” Replied Collins, indicating a chair in the far corner of the room.

“And do we have any idea what these symbols mean?” asked Jack, indicating the markings on the dead man’s arms and legs.

“Not a clue, Sir.” Said Collins, with a sigh of resignation.

“Hmm. Well let’s make sure to get some good photos of those, please. If the perpetrator took the time to do that they must mean something.” Jack paused, taking a slow look around the room now, noting the entire crime scene. It was so, well, conservative, he thought. Not at all what he would have expected a Spiritualist Meeting Hall to look like.

Making his way in the direction indicated by Collins he passed along a short corridor, mentally noting the layout of the building. He realised he was passing down the side of the raised stage area. He looked through the small door on the other side of the corridor. It appeared to be being used as a dressing room.

The entire setup was not endearing him to this whole world. Jack didn’t like this – he felt that it was exploiting people, vulnerable people, who were mired in grief and too willing to accept any hope any charlatan could offer them. Hearing the chatter which always accompanied a group of potential witnesses and suspects, Jack took a second to steel himself. You could never know what you’d encounter when you walked through the door.

“Inspector Robinson!” The cry came from the far side of the room. He shut his eyes for a moment, cursing his misfortune. Turning towards the source of the sound he found it busying its way towards him.

“Mrs Stanley.” He said, with as much politeness as he could muster. He smiled, trying not to allow his underlying fear of the woman make itself known in his expression.

“Inspector, this is untenable. We have all been here for over an hour, and no-one will tell us anything about what is going on. Your officers have even refused to let my niece become involved, and I know how invaluable you find her assistance.” Mrs Stanley stopped abruptly two small steps in front of Jack. He looked down at her, she was all of five foot tall but a force to be reckoned with.

Quickly processing her words one thought occurred to him. “Oh, is Miss Fisher here?” he asked, not entirely sure what he wanted the answer to be.

He hadn’t told his superiors of her involvement in the case at the theatre. She wasn’t a departmental consultant on that one, and her client, Mr Lin, Jack grimaced at the thought, had been very keen that everything was as discreetly handled as possible, and so Phryne had deliberately maintained a low profile, skulking around the wings and dressing rooms of the theatre and handing all of her information to Jack without reservation.

Jack had last seen Phryne yesterday morning when he’d snuck out of her house following an entirely pleasurable night in her ‘boudoir’ which had in itself followed a very lovely meal at a bistro in Malvern where they’d held hands between courses and Jack had been unable to tear his eyes away from Phryne. If she was somehow involved here, as a witness or for some other reason, then he really felt he might have to tell someone that they were… what were they at this point?

They weren’t telling people. Still. They weren’t using words like ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’, or anything at all, really. He was having to stop himself from saying something either very brave or very foolish, but which was almost certain to lead to her panicking as a reaction. He loved her. He knew it. Jack realised that he was ahead of Phryne on this, but he also recognised that she’d held back from just dragging him to bed until he was ready, so giving her as long as she needed until he could be confident she wouldn’t panic on the emotional side of things seemed more than reasonable. But he _so_ wanted to tell her, to just let her know exactly how he felt. Not yet, he’d cautioned himself. Too soon, still too soon, but he looked at her sometimes and thought he saw something that suggested she felt something more than just casual _fucking_. He shrugged it off, these were thoughts for another time.

Jack loved spending time with Phryne, he appreciated her assistance on cases, but with her aunt present he couldn’t be sure how to approach their working together. He was dragged back to reality by the older woman breaking into his thoughts.

“I said, Inspector, although I do not believe you were listening, that my niece _is_ here, but her phone rang, which apparently was terribly important, and _she_ has managed to persuade one of your officers to allow her to step outside to take the call. Oh, here she is now. Phryne!” She exclaimed in something which would have been a bellow had it not been quite so well-spoken.

Jack and Phryne locked eyes across the room. They both smiled and then both remembered their circumstances. Phryne hesitated.

“Phryne! Over here my girl!” Mrs Stanley repeated.

Phryne rolled her eyes slightly, just for Jack’s benefit as she moved over to them.

“Aunt Prudence, I see you’ve found the Inspector.”

“I have my girl, and he has still not told me what is going on.”

“Well we’re still examining all the evidence Mrs Stanley.” Jack tried to maintain his authority.

“Aunt Prudence has been instrumental in putting together today’s meeting,” Said Phryne, attempting to convey to Jack that perhaps he could speak to her aunt first and then allow her to leave. Encourage her to leave, even.

“Ah,” said Jack, immediately feeling even more uncomfortable. “If you’ll give me one moment, I’ll just speak with my Constable, and as you, Mrs Stanley, are obviously a vital source of knowledge in respect of this case, then if you have no objections, we shall take your statement first.” Phryne suppressed a smirk, she could tell a buttering up when she saw it.

Jack moved away to speak with Collins, leaving Mrs Stanley and Phryne together on the edge of the room.

Phryne could see that Jack was nervous around her aunt. Aunt P had attended a small gathering Phryne had put together for her birthday last December and had barged in on Jack and Phryne in the kitchen having an in-depth conversation regarding a case they had recently worked together. Now that Phryne cast her mind back, she realised that Jack had been looking at her quite intently that evening, and had inched his way along the countertop until he had been leaning almost up against her. Then Aunt P had wandered in, gabbling loudly about nothing of consequence, and Jack had leapt backwards as if he had been electrocuted. She was suddenly struck by the thought that maybe he had been thinking about making a move that evening.

“The Inspector seems very chipper,” said Mrs Stanley, interrupting Phryne’s thoughts.

“Does he Aunt P?” Phryne answered distractedly as her mind moved to considering whether there were any other occasions like her birthday party which she had somehow failed to realise.

“He does, Phryne, he does.” Mrs Stanley paused and considered. “Do you have your secretary with you?”

“Personal Assistant, Aunt P. I’ve sent her to sort me out a coffee. This is terribly early in the day for me.”

Mrs Stanley hummed in contemplation and watched as her niece fixed her gaze towards the Inspector.

 

 

****************************

 

Immediately after he had spoken with Mrs Stanley, Jack had, as much for the sake of appearances as anything else, taken Phryne’s statement. The utter politeness of it was bizarre; ‘Miss Fisher’ and ‘Inspector Robinson’ falling from their lips as if they had not been naked in each other’s arms a little more than twenty four hours earlier.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

The remainder of the day had passed tortuously slowly. Some of the other people who Jack interviewed were related to the deceased, and had been understandably distraught. Jack had however got the impression that Roland Claremont was less than popular amongst his relatives. There was low level talk of an unpleasant character, always willing to make much of the faults of others to advance himself. Failed relationships, poor outcomes at work, failing to live in a manner deemed ‘acceptable’ where all matters Roland had embarrassed various of Jack’s relatives about over the years. The stories had been confirmed by Phryne, who had no love and little time for the man, and who had voiced that if this was how he treated his family, how did he treat others in the wider world? Jack had wondered why they had all agreed to attend the Spiritualists sessions, and Phryne had stated that Roland had enlisted the assistance of Aunt P, who would never hear a bad word about her godson. And so attend they all had, although it was also obvious that some of them believed in this even less than Jack, who thought it all complete nonsense.

At Mrs Stanley’s insistence, Phryne had sat in on all the interviews. Mrs Stanley did not entirely trust any police officer to be competent enough to deal with any case successfully, and even if the Inspector was very insightful, this case, from what little they were being told, appeared particularly vexing. The police would surely need the assistance of her clever niece.

 

********************************

 

They had interviewed the medium’s manager, Warwick Hamilton. Sleazy, Jack thought, an impression which wasn’t helped by him very obviously trying to hit on Phryne. Jack had determined to just let it go. Men flirted with Phryne. Sometimes she flirted back. Here, she had inhaled on a sniff, crossed one leg over the other and picked at a non-existent thread on the skirt of her dress before folding her arms and sitting back. It was as close to ‘fuck off’ as Phryne came. Jack wondered whether she genuinely wasn’t interested, or whether she was in some way considering him? The former he thought. They had got very little of any real substance from him either, which made Jack even more suspicious.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

The medium herself was to be the last interviewee of the day. Mrs Stanley, who had loitered in the back room, holding court Jack thought, was becoming quite insistent on being present for this one.

It all started quite routinely, Jack was asking questions to establish her movements prompting Mrs Stanley to try to interject. Phryne managed to calm her aunt and somehow convinced her to leave the now cramped room. Mrs Bolkonsky took the opportunity of Mrs Stanley being escorted from the room by Phryne to scrutinise Jack and Hugh.

She leant forwards, “I would love to read your cards for you Inspector” she purred. Jack gave a polite but forced smile and declined. “But would you not wish to know how your life may pan out, what obstacles there may be, what can be revealed of your true character?” she had added.

Thankfully Phryne returned then, taking her seat next to Jack. The three investigators – Jack, Phryne and Collins were crowded around one side of a small table, Mrs Bolkonsky having spread herself out on the other side. As Phryne settled herself back in her small chair, the clairvoyant placed her hands on the table, spreading her fingers slightly and closing her eyes.

Jack was just about to continue his questions when the woman snapped her eyes open and grabbed Phryne’s hand. She ran her fingers over the lines on Phryne’s palm. “Very interesting, my dear. Fascinating. I can see many adventures in your past, and many more in your future. See here…” she indicated the line’s on Phryne’s palm, “These show me all I could want to know. Shall I tell you what is foretold?”

Phryne shrugged her shoulders slightly, deciding to humour the eccentric lady. Mrs Bolkonsky turned Phryne’s palm over, examining the side of her hand, rolling it back and running a finger over the slight lines marking Phryne’s wrist. She spoke with confidence, “Ahh yes. You will marry your first love, my dear and together raise," she traced the lines over Phryne's palms, "three children. And here, you will excel in lawn bowls. But don't be scared my dear, you will never lose yourself."

Phryne tried not to look appalled, but quickly retracted her hand from Mrs Bolkonsky’s grasp.

“As entertaining as this is, I have an investigation to get on with,” interjected Jack, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

The older woman turned her head, fixing her gaze upon him. Jack opened his mouth to speak but found his interviewee pouncing forwards, forcefully placing her hand on top of his, raising the fingers of her other hand to silence him.

“And your’s Inspector?”

She blinked and turned her face away, glancing back over her shoulder. The expression on her face altered minutely, as if she was engaged in a silent conversation with an unseen partner. She furrowed her brow slightly, as if she was surprised, glancing back to Jack before sweeping her gaze between Phryne and Jack. “Ah,” she exclaimed, a small smile forming on her lips. She leaned towards Jack and spoke purposefully, “James is glad that you have found happiness. Never take it for granted Inspector.” She sat back, glancing over her shoulder once more and giggling. When she spoke again it was as if to her unseen partner in conversation, “Yes, yes, as stubborn as each other. It is often the way.”

Jack snapped his hand away from the table as his expression changed. Phryne looked at him, noticing his nostrils flare minutely. He was trying to control his breathing, she could recognise that. The expression on his face was of rising fury. Instinctively she went to move her hand towards his before stopping herself. ‘Work’, ‘Crime Scene’, ‘Professional’ all flashed through her mind and she resettled herself in her seat, clearing her throat instead.

The rest of the interview passed in an air of awkwardness, as Jack’s questions were phrased more bluntly than usual. Mrs Bolkonsky answered all of them in what Phryne was discovering was her own particularly flowery manner. When one word would suffice, she would use four or five. Nothing was responded to without an anecdote or a glance over the shoulder, seemingly for ‘assistance’. Phryne wondered if the woman was stalling, but she felt it unlikely that Mrs Bolkonsky would have killed Roland Claremont in quite such a way. The woman, Phryne mused, seemed more of a ‘blunt force trauma’ sort of person. By the time the interview was finished Phryne thought that Jack had calmed down slightly, but she couldn’t be sure.

Collins escorted the woman from the room, leaving Jack and Phryne alone. As the door clicked shut behind them, Jack stood up, moved to the wall and punched it, wincing with pain as the unfamiliar sensation ricocheted up his arm.

“Jack?” asked Phryne, cautiously.

“Apologies, Miss Fisher that was unprofessional of me.” Jack replied, not turning around.

Phryne paused. Jack was very quiet, very contained. He almost seemed to have replaced all of the armour she had been carefully stripping from him over the last few months. She considered everything she knew about him. Perhaps he was just desperately trying to maintain a professional manner? That seemed likely. Phryne glanced at her watch. Technically Jack’s shift finished in an hour, but she suspected he would stay at SKR for some time, probably too long if left entirely to his own devices.

“Inspector,” Phryne said, her voice barely above a whisper, “As I’ve been asked by my aunt to keep an eye on this case, perhaps you’d like to come round for supper this evening? To discuss it. And anything else you might want to talk about?”

Jack blinked, still facing the wall. Feeling unable to say anything, he merely nodded.

“OK,” said Phryne, “I’ll see you later.” As she moved to leave the room she paused behind Jack, carefully taking the hand he had punched the wall with in hers. Squeezing it gently, she hoped her actions would convey the words she herself could not be entirely sure of.

As Phryne walked through the entrance hallway of the Meeting Hall she heard Jack bellow, the single word “COLLINS!” audible even from this far side of the building. The young Constable scurried past her, swallowing nervously.

 

 


	13. Monday 25th July - supper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack isn't coping well after his interview with Mrs Bol-whatsit.

At 8pm the doorbell rang. Mr Butler ushered Jack inside, relieving him of his overcoat, scarf and gloves and finally his suit jacket. The elder man guided a silent Jack through to the dining room, where Phryne was waiting for him, seated at the table, a half drunk glass of wine in her hands.

“Jack,” said Phryne, a tone of concern in her voice.

“Phryne.” Responded Jack, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Mr Butler indicated the chair diagonally across from Phryne, which Jack took, a small wordless smile flitting across his face. Having vanished silently, Mr Butler reappeared a minute later with another glass of wine, which he placed by Jack. Two minutes later a steaming plate of food appeared in front of Jack. Phryne had commissioned Mrs Butler to make something ‘comforting and homely’, and Cottage Pie had been deemed to be appropriate.

Jack tucked in, acting as if on autopilot. He was half-way down his second glass of wine before he seemed to come back to himself momentarily. “I’m driving, I shouldn’t be drinking this.”

“Would you like to stay?” Phryne asked, gently.

Jack took a moment to consider his options. “If that’s all right?”

“It’s fine Jack. Car keys?” she enquired, holding her hand out.

He looked at her now, his brow furrowed in confusion. “We’re very strict about not drinking and driving here Jack. So you can’t get into trouble.” She smiled at him, openly and Jack nodded, digging in his pockets for his keys which he passed to Phryne. Mr Butler appeared once more and Phryne passed the keys to him. “Jack will be staying overnight, Mr Butler.”

“Of course Miss. The guest room is made up.”

“Thank you Mr Butler.” She replied.

Jack finished his meal and Phryne urged him to move through to the lounge. She settled Jack into one of the armchairs and knelt on the carpet at his feet. Tapping his ankles gently he moved his feet as she carefully removed his shoes and socks. Mr Butler moved through the doorway holding a small tray upon which rested two cups, an ornate coffee pot, and a jug of cream.

“Decaf, Miss” he offered, as he left the couple in the lounge and Phryne prepared a coffee for Jack, passing it to him carefully.

Phryne wasn’t sure how to deal with this. What had sent him this far back into himself? Jack tended to bottle things up before blurting them out, that much she knew. He also thought things through. Very deeply. And sometimes he was more pessimistic than she expected him to be.

Taking a seat in the other armchair, she drank her coffee, watching Jack carefully all the while. At the bottom of his second cup of coffee he seemed to come back to reality once more.

“Sorry Phryne, I find myself somewhat distracted.”

Phryne spoke gently, “Jack, you’ve been very quiet all evening.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s OK. How are you feeling?”

Jack played with his coffee cup. “Tired.” He fiddled with his tie, loosening it. “I’ve no other clothes…”

“Is your gym bag in your car?”

“Oh. Yes it is.” Jack frowned.

“Shall I despatch Mr B?”

“Is that…Would he?”

“He would.” Phryne rose and moved into the hallway, returning a few minutes later.

Jack felt numb. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but he couldn’t get a firm grip on any of them. There was too much for him to consider. He blinked, how had he got to Phryne’s? He recalled food, wine, he looked down and saw the coffee cup in his hand.

“Do you know where’s a good thinking space?” Phryne asked.

Jack shook his head.

“Nice hot bath. There’s one running upstairs. Come on.” Phryne offered Jack her hand, which he took and she led him upstairs, shepherding him into her bedroom. Settling him into the armchair in the corner of the room, she moved into her en-suite. Mrs Butler had started the water running and Phryne found some adequately non-floral bubble bath, adding it to the water.

Moving back to the bedroom, she discovered Jack still sitting in the chair, staring into space. She crouched down in front of him, he was still deep in thought. “OK Jack, take your waistcoat off.”

He pulled the item off, followed by his tie. “OK. Bathroom, Jack. Water should be just about ready by now.” She bundled him towards the bathroom and pulled the door behind him, leaving it slightly ajar. Waiting, she heard the water being turned off. There was a rustling of clothes and a quiet splash of water, which Phryne took to be Jack sinking into the bath water. She waited a few more moments before carefully pushing the bathroom door open. She gathered up Jack’s shirt, trousers and underwear before returning to her bedroom.

Ten minutes later Jack was lightly roused from his thought process by Phryne placing her hand on his shoulder. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“That’s fine.” He replied, still mostly in a stupor.

Phryne quickly removed her clothes, before nudging Jack’s shoulder once more. “Shift forwards,” she said, smiling at him. He did as she asked and Phryne lowered herself into the water behind him. Adjusting her legs she wrapped her arms carefully around Jack’s body and pulled him gently back to her. She pressed her lips to his shoulder blade, a tender kiss of concern and comfort. “I don’t want to push you Jack, but when I said you can tell me anything, I meant anything.” She paused and felt Jack move his hand, placing it on top of Phryne’s.

“It is all bullshit, isn’t it?”

Phryne wasn’t sure what in particular he was referring to.

“Talking to the spirits of the departed. It’s all nonsense, isn’t it? I don’t believe in ghosts. I don’t. Ghosts, souls, spirits, whatever. They’re not just, hanging around on the off-chance, are they?” he added.

“I don’t know Jack. Aunt P believes. I’m not so sure.”

Silence fell again as Phryne considered for a moment the questions she didn’t have answers to, the one mystery she had never been able to solve. She could see why people like Mrs Bolkonsky gave hope. The promise of simple answers, straight forward reassurances, a comfort needed in a time of trial.

“My dad’s name is James. Was James.”

Phryne didn’t know what to say. He’d never spoken about his father before. He talked about his mum quite a lot, they were obviously quite close. Phryne had asked him once, ‘and what about your father’. ‘No’, was all he had said, in the tone that Phryne knew, even then, meant he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Was?” she echoed his word, hoping she wasn’t probing too aggressively. A part of her had assumed that Jack’s dad had just done a bunk.

“He died.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

The nod of his head was infinitesimally small and an eye less keen than Phryne’s would have missed it. She stayed quiet, allowing him the time he obviously needed.

“I was fifteen. It was Spring, almost. August 27th. Tuesday. And we had breakfast. I had toast. Dad had porridge. He always had porridge, every day. Even in the height of summer. Said it powered him through to lunch. Kath had gone to school early, and Dad and I sat and talked about my day at school. Then we walked to the tram, talking about the footy. Abbotsford were playing Carlton that weekend, we were dead excited about it, we thought we’d probably win.”

Jack’s tone had become lighter, but he faltered again, becoming quiet. “When we got to the tram stop he ruffled my hair and said ‘see you later Jack’, and I said, ‘yeah, see you tonight Dad’ and he got on the tram to work, and I got on the one going the other way to school.” Jack paused again.

“And then I was in Double English Lit after lunch. We were doing Tess of the D’Urbervilles. I still can’t read that book. And Mr Jackson, the Deputy Head came in and told me to collect my stuff. And he wouldn’t tell me what was going on, but he drove me home and Kath opened the door and her face was bright red and my dad’s boss was in the kitchen with my mum, who was just sobbing.”

“Was there an accident?” Phryne asked, realising she didn’t even know what Jack’s dad had done for a living.

“No. He just had a heart attack. Keeled over in the canteen at morning break. Was dead before he hit the floor. At least that’s what the doctor said.”

Phryne was glad Jack couldn’t see her face. Her heart broke a little bit for him.

“And, I just. My last conversation with him was about the footy. There was so much more I never got to talk to him about. So much I never got to say. I never got to tell him that I loved him. One minute he was there. And then he just wasn’t.”

Not knowing what to say, Phryne tightened her grip around him, leaning her head forwards, resting her cheek against his back.

“And I just don’t think I can believe that the spirit of my dad is hanging around, whispering into the ear of a Spiritualist Medium in a hall in Carlton. Is he?”

“I don’t know, Jack. I wish I had answers on this, I really do.” Phryne whispered.

“But how did she know his name?”

“They, have things they do, Jack. James is a very common name. It would be surprising if one of us in that room hadn’t known someone with that name. This is what she does, I imagine. Maybe she has a gift, maybe she can talk to the dear departed. Maybe she can’t and she’s a charlatan.” Phryne paused for a moment, “Before today, what did you think?”

Jack squeezed the sponge he had been pushing around in the water. “I’d like to think he’s watching over me, somehow. But only in a very abstract sense. I don’t think he’s dying to have a conversation with me, sorry, bad choice of word. But I don’t think he’s going to suddenly decide, after twenty years, that some nebulous statement about happiness is of such importance that he tracks down Mrs Bol-whatsit to speak through her. And I just don’t like the fact that she riled me. She got to me, Phryne. And now I just don’t know whether she might be my murderer, or whether she’s just some eccentric crank that’s hearing voices. Or whatever she thinks is going on.”

“Well I think I’m with you Jack, that she’s just an eccentric crank. But please don’t tell my Aunt that.”

Jack smiled. It was good to know he wasn’t the only one who was not always comfortable around Mrs Stanley. He looked at his hands; his fingers had wrinkled in the water.

“This has really helped. Thanks.” He said, running his arm over Phryne’s. He adjusted his grip, and pushed himself out of the bath, reaching for a towel from the stack on the side which he wrapped around his waist. He held one out for Phryne who rose from the bath gracefully, stepping into Jack’s arms as he wrapped the towel around her.

Phryne took a step back and moved towards the bedroom. Jack followed her and they both sat on the edge of her bed. Jack yawned, trying to cover the action with the back of his hand.

Phryne reached over and squeezed Jack’s thigh. “Do you want to go to bed?”

“Oh, Phryne. I’m just not sure…”

“To sleep, Jack. You look exhausted.”

“Oh, yes. Where’s the guest room?”

“Don’t be silly Jack, you’re staying here.”

“But Mr Butler said…”

“Jack, if you do want to stay in the guest room, then it is made up. But I’d much rather you stayed with me. And I’m not sure you should be alone tonight, Jack.”

Jack nodded. Phryne crossed to the armchair, where Jack’s clothes had now been replaced by his gym bag. She picked it up and moved back to Jack, placing the bag next to him on the bed. Jack dug through the bag, picking out a T-shirt and a pair of briefs. He towelled himself dry and pulled the clothes on. Phryne removed the bag back to the armchair, before looking through a drawer and extracting an item of nightwear for herself.

“I thought you slept in nothing at all?” Jack asked.

“Usually, Jack. But not absolutely always.” Phryne picked up Jack’s towel and moved through to the bathroom. Jack looked around, his phones had been put on to charge on the far bedside table. It occurred to him to wonder where the chargers had come from. He pulled down the covers and scrambled in, moving over to the far side of the bed. He checked the alarm clock on his phone before settling back against the pillows.

Phryne came back into the bedroom. Jack looked at her and smiled. She was wearing some sort of satin negligee, close fitting and skimming the tops of her legs at mid-thigh level. She flicked on the lamp on her bedside table, before turning the main light off. She snuggled into bed next to Jack, who instinctively wrapped his arms around her.

“You’re right. I don’t want to be alone tonight. So thank you.”

“It’s fine, Jack. It’s nice having you here. Thank you for telling me about your Dad.”

“I still miss him, sometimes. So much I didn’t say.” Jack said, yawning again.

Phryne rolled over and turned the lamp off, rolling back and pulling Jack to her. She pressed a kiss to his temple. “It’s fine to miss him Jack.”

“Hmm.” Jack snuggled into Phryne’s shoulder, running a hand over her waist. “This is nice.”

“It is.” she confirmed.

Jack went quiet as Phryne wrapped her arms around him, stroking her fingers up and down Jack’s side. She heard his breathing evening out, slowing down.

“Good night Jack,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek before turning her head away from him fractionally.

“Good night Phryne,” he said, his grip on her waist loosening as he slipped towards sleep, “I love you, Phryne” he murmured, his breathing falling into a low snore.

Phryne stared at the ceiling, trying not to panic. He was asleep now. She considered how she felt. “OK,” she whispered into the darkened room, “OK.”

 

 


	14. Tuesday 26th July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course Phryne hasn't said anything...

Jack sat at his desk, tapping the edge of his fingers on the sides of the small cool bag in front of him. It had been pressed into his hands by Mrs Butler as he had been leaving the kitchen. That had been after Mr Butler had produced a clothes brush from, well, Jack wasn’t actually sure where it had appeared from, but it had, and the older gentleman had appeared to take an almost gleeful delight in sweeping the brush across Jack’s shoulders, Mr Butler adjusting the material of Jack’s suit jacket minutely as if preparing a work of art for public display. Then Mr Butler had assisted Jack to don his scarf and overcoat before both he and Mrs Butler had melted into the utility area; ‘we’ll just be clearing up Miss, whilst you show Inspector Robinson out’.

Now Jack was finding himself in a conundrum. As Phryne had been _just showing him out_ , he had mentioned that he’d like to call her in as a consultant on the case, and she’d smiled at him and indicated that she’d be willing to help out. She had been looking at him strangely, tentatively almost, he thought, as if she was considering something, as if she knew something he didn’t have a clue about. Well, Jack considered, he did feel she was always two steps ahead of him, and at least if she was working on the case she’d hopefully share her hunches with him.

Jack’s conundrum was that he really felt he should say something now, to someone, here, about Phryne and their - he still hesitated to say, _relationship_. He couldn’t in all good conscience have her working a case with him, officially, and allow their results to be in any way compromised by the fact of their personal involvement being withheld from his superiors. But he also felt like this was something she should know he was going to do before he did. And a small part of Jack still worried that such a move might lead to her panicking.

Picking up his phone he pressed the speed-dial button he’d allocated to Phryne a few weeks ago. The call connected, and the phone rang.

“Jack. Calling already? Can’t bear to be parted from me?” Phryne answered with a smoulder Jack could hear even down the phone line.

“Well you are irresistible.” Replied Jack, worrying slightly that he was being too reckless, or too salacious.

Phryne laughed lightly down the phone, “Is this about me consulting?”

“It is.”

“I hope you’ve not changed your mind?”

“Erm, no. But…”

“But what, Jack?”

“It’s just. When we went for our first dinner, I said that if things got serious between us, I’d have to tell my work?”

“You did.”

Jack thought he heard her smile as she said that, but he couldn't be sure. “Well, erm, I know this is still fairly new, and I’m not sure how you feel, and I’m really not trying to put any pressure on you, and I really don’t expect us to say anything to anyone else, or make any sort of grand announcement or anything, and I’m not necessarily saying we’re definitely _serious_ , but this is the first case where I’ve wanted to bring you in, officially since we, erm…”

“Started seeing each other?”

“Yes. And I think I have to tell my DCI about us when I talk to her about bringing you in as a consultant.”

There was a pause, which Jack held his breath during. He knew that rushing Phryne, pushing her down a path she didn’t want to go down was a terrible idea.

“OK. Yes, of course. I understand entirely. Am I going to have to come and meet your DCI?”

“Oh I wouldn’t think so. I expect to be reminded of policies, but I can’t see that she’d want to speak to you. I’ll let you know what happens?”

“OK. Well, I’m going to go and get ready for work. Call me if you get the go ahead to bring me in.”

“OK. Bye.”

“Bye Jack.”

Jack pushed his phone back into his jacket and fingered the edge of the cool bag once more. He wondered, casually, whether Phryne’s other overnight guests were dispatched with lunch? He thought not, and found himself questioning what this might mean. Perhaps, he considered, he was overthinking a few sandwiches. Standing up from his chair, Jack brushed his hands over his legs, adjusted his already perfectly straight tie, and walked purposefully to his DCI’s office on the far side of the Homicide floor.

””””””””””””””””””””””””””

“Robinson? Come in, come in, have a seat.”

Jack did as bade, shutting the door to the large, brightly lit office behind him. He settled himself in the somewhat uncomfortable chair, shifting his weight nervously.

“Is there any progress on the Claremont case?”

Jack cleared his throat. “Some, ma’am. I’ve got the team looking into the victim’s financials. There’s potentially quite a few suspects, the victim doesn’t appear to have been particularly well-liked. And there was the manner of his death. The actual act appears to have been fairly easy to deduce, but his body was laid out in a manner which appears almost ritualistic, and I’m trying to discover what all the various symbols which were on his body might mean, if anything.”

“Well that all sounds promising. Keep me updated.” DCI Hall smiled at Jack from behind her desk, in a manner that Jack had learned meant he was being dismissed.

“Yes ma’am. There is one thing ma’am. I was hoping I could bring in an external consultant on this case. Miss Fisher, from HR Detection Services?”

DCI Hall peered at Jack over the rim of her glasses. “And your rationale is?”

“She knew the victim, she knows many of the suspects, and I believe she can probably at least point us in the direction of what religion or belief system or group the symbols on the body might be connected to, which would save my team a lot of time.”

“Well yes, that seems reasonable. I’ll want results, and everything in writing of course.”

“Of course ma’am. There is just one more thing, ma’am.”

“Which is?”

“Erm, it’s about Miss Fisher ma’am.” Jack swallowed nervously. “We’re, erm, that is to say we’ve, become, erm, we are involved. With each other. On a personal level.” Jack winched. He wished the ground would open up and swallow him.

DCI Hall capped her pen and laid it on the desk in front of her. She appraised the man sat across from her. She liked Jack, he was a damned good copper and his solve rate made her look like an exceptionally effective manager. Of course he also worked too hard, didn’t take quite all of his leave and looked perpetually as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. She was also quite a decent copper herself, and it had been impossible to fail to notice that Jack had been smiling more in the last few months. She’d hoped a woman was involved, and that he’d managed to find someone after the mess with his wife. DCI Hall had also long observed that Jack and Miss Fisher worked well together, but had not quite realised that there was an attraction between them.

“I assume you’re not asking me to authorise her involvement as a consultant because of your personal relationship?”

“Of course not ma’am.”

DCI Hall knew that her next question should be to check that he hadn’t already told her about the case, and that he hadn’t discussed any of his other cases with her. She decided not to open that particular can of worms.

“How long has this been going on?” she asked instead, hoping it was not so long that it might prejudice any other cases Miss Fisher had worked on.

“Just short of three months, ma’am.”

“Three months?”

“Yes ma’am.”

DCI Hall smiled, a response completely unnoticed by Jack who was playing with his thumb nail distractedly.

“And is this common knowledge?” she asked.

Jack considered. He definitely shouldn’t tell his DCI that Dave had been involved in the subterfuge at the airport. Besides, Dave only knew that Jack was keen on Phryne, he didn’t actually know that there was anything going on. He still owed Dave that beer, he reminded himself. “I don’t think anyone else on the force knows, ma’am. Constable Collins is in a relationship with Miss Fisher’s PA, but I don’t know if she knows.”

“Oh, the quiet girl with the lovely smile. I met her at last year’s ball.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“You haven’t been at the ball for the last few years.”

“I haven’t ma’am, no. But I have met Miss Williams, through Miss Fisher.”

“And Collins isn’t aware…?”

“I haven’t said anything to him ma’am.” Jack once again ignored the entire ‘airport escape’ scenario. They’d worked on that after their shift had officially ended, he told himself, and Collins staying at his girlfriend’s flat overnight could hardly be frowned upon. Jack had resolutely avoided saying anything more to Collins at all.

DCI Hall uncapped her pen and made a brief note on the pad of paper in front of her.

“You appear to have kept this remarkably quiet Jack.” Said DCI Hall, losing some of her formality.

Forgetting himself for a moment, Jack spoke without thinking. “Well it all happened after she got back from London, and she didn’t want to broadcast it whilst we tried to figure things out between ourselves.”

“London? What was she doing in London?”

Jack looked up at that. He suddenly remembered that his boss was somewhat committed to the republican cause. Jack knew that from a somewhat in-depth conversation he’d found himself in at a department Christmas lunch a few years previously.

“She was at a friend’s wedding.” Jack said, tactfully.

“Oh. Must have been a good friend, to travel all that way. Well, good luck to you Jack. Now, I’ll just remind you of some ground rules, just so we all know where we stand…”

  **  
**

Jack emerged from his boss’ office twenty minutes later, his head ringing with policies, procedures and a list of ‘do’s and don’ts’ that filled half a sheet of paper. He called Phryne to confirm that she was approved to consult and made himself a cup of coffee before returning to his desk.

Feeling a little peckish already, despite the excellent breakfast Mrs Butler had fed him, he carefully unzipped the cool bag. It was full to bursting with sandwiches, a slice of quiche, a small Tupperware with pieces of cheese delicately sliced and neatly arranged, a banana, a small bunch of grapes and a large piece of Mrs Butler’s lemon sponge cake. Jack decided to try a sandwich and found himself questioning how on earth Mrs Butler had known that ham, cheese and mustard pickle were his favourite.


	15. Wednesday 27th July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Another Murder*?
> 
> Why yes, of course...

Jack and Phryne spent the afternoon in his office, the door firmly jammed open, as they poured over the FS photos of the marks on Roland Claremont’s body. Phryne pulled out a notebook, scribbling lists before screwing her face up into an expression of confusion. Consulting her notes she looked through the pictures, sorting them into a number of small piles.

“This makes no sense.” She said to Jack, her exasperation obvious.

“Explain?” asked Jack.

“Well these…” she picked out a pile with two photos, “are Buddhist symbols… These three enochian magic, which I feel is a bit overblown… This is Alexandrian Wicca, this is just ‘general’ paganism… these are hoodoo, and I think this is probably Hindu.”

“What?” Jack looked as confused as Phryne.

“Well either someone was damning him as many ways as possible, or this is all a red herring to distract from something more mundane.”

“The latter seems more likely?”

“Indeed. Especially as this one is actually a blessing, and this one,” she stabbed a finger at one of the more intricate symbols, “is a sigil to bring health.”

“So, done by someone with a little knowledge, but no expertise?” Jack queried.

“It would seem that way.” Phryne confirmed.

Jack looked at his watch, “Well shall we see if the spirits want to talk to either of us tonight?”

££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££

Phryne sat in Jack’s car and considered both this case and Jack as they drove to the Spiritualist Hall. This case was revealing a part of Jack’s past that she had never known. That in itself felt like it was a serious step. He obviously trusted her enough to share this very painful chapter of his life with her. She was fairly sure he had no idea he’d told her he loved her. She was going to presume he really meant it, because having forced herself to sit and watch Jack over breakfast yesterday, and to observe him today, she could see there was more there than just desire and concern.

Last night’s dinner with Jane and Mac had passed in a blur, she had been so distracted that she had utterly failed to realise that Mac had asked her about work until Jane had hit her on the knuckles with the back of her fork. Somehow, Phryne had ended up apologising, and attempting to engage fully, but a feeling she couldn’t name in the pit of her stomach kept on gnawing away at her.

After Jane had gone to bed and Mac had left, all conversation about Kate or even mention of her existence  _ still _ being avoided by the pair of friends, Phryne had gone up to bed, opened her laptop and Googled ‘what does being in love feel like?’. She’d read the first three pages of results, and honestly felt like she was none the wiser. It all seemed so indefinable somehow.

Casting her mind back to Ronnie, she thought about how Jack was very different. There were material facts of difference; Jack was an independent person whereas Ronnie had been using her money to support his preferred lifestyle. Ronnie had told her what to wear, and had controlled where they went on nights out. Jack made suggestions, but didn’t force his choices on her. He was equally open to her suggestions, even though she suspected that there were some events he would never have chosen to attend if she had not suggested them. 

The post-feminist dystopian theatre piece in the Fairfax Studio was one that immediately came to mind. Phryne knew Jack enjoyed the theatre, but she felt he was probably more traditionally minded. But he had seemed to enjoy it; certainly he’d discussed it with her intently afterwards and she’d found an obviously recently purchased book about ‘post-feminist theory’ on his coffee table when she’d next been round at his flat. She’d idly thumbed through it – there had been notes in the margins.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

They arrived at the Hall a good hour before the event. Jack thought Phryne had been unusually quiet on the drive, but he had looked over at her when they had stopped at a set of traffic lights and realised that she was obviously deep in thought. Probably working on some brilliant solution to the case he thought.

Jack smiled, he was very good at his job, he knew that, had been before Phryne waltzed into his life, but it was somehow so much more satisfying with her around. The result always seemed to be arrived at quicker, the missing piece found more easily. Acting professionally at work today had been easier than he had anticipated. Perhaps now that he knew he could kiss her when they finished work in the evenings that made the tension between them less distracting? There  was still a delicious tension though, a knowing yearning now that Jack found he craved. 

He knew he had lost his heart to her too, was falling more  _ in love _ every day. He wondered when it would no longer be ‘too soon’ to tell her? Maybe, Jack thought, if they started telling people they were involved, he could consider actually telling her how deeply he felt? But now still felt like it was too soon, however often he felt like saying it. 

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Warwick Hamilton walked out onto the stage and delivered an introduction for Mrs Bolkonsky that was as obsequious as it was arrogant. It was also been overlong. Really, Phryne thought, the audience had already paid their admittance money; already bought in to the image and reputation of the Spiritualist who was being introduced.

As the cautious and polite applause of the noticeably nervous crowd faded, Mrs Bolkonsky floated onto the stage, circling the space and the small table placed at the centre of it before sitting on the chair positioned beside it. Warwick Hamilton disappeared into the wings and the lights faded down.

“Everyone join hands!” Mrs Bolkonsky commanded. Jack and Phryne both rolled their eyes but reached for each other regardless. Jack had deliberately positioned them on the back row of the chairs.

“This is not how I’d usually spend my Wednesday evening.” Phryne murmured.

“Good to know,” murmured Jack in reply, adjusting the grip of his hand as it held hers.

On the stage Mrs Bolkonsky was waving her hands and gesticulating wildly. It was almost as if she were performing a dance of some sort, Jack thought. There was incense burning at various points around the room which Phryne thought was somewhat overpowering. It also had a distinct aroma of lavender, and camomile. “I think the incense is supposed to relax everyone,” whispered Phryne, her lips mere centimetres from Jack’s ear.

Jack observed the crowd at the front of the hall. It was difficult to tell how relaxed they might be from this angle. Mrs Bolkonsky now started speaking in slow, deliberate, soothing tones. Phryne blew in Jack’s ear, which caused him to turn his head to look at her, raising an eyebrow in a quizzical tone.

“I think she’s trying to put everyone into a sort of hypnotic state,” Phryne said, looking at Jack intently.

“I thought you couldn’t be hypnotised if you didn’t want to be?” Jack whispered back.

“I’m not sure how it works. We can’t take the chance though can we, not for ourselves?”

“Well what do we do?”

“Put our fingers in our ears?” Phryne offered.

“Won’t that seem a little strange?”

“Well what else do you suggest?”

Jack’s brain immediately leaped to ‘kiss the girl’, a thought he dismissed as too much, even for them.

“Won’t she see?” he asked, anxiously.

“From this distance, in this light, hopefully not,” replied Phryne, taking her hand from his and ramming her fingers in her ears. She smiled at him, mouthing, ‘you too’ as she nodded her head in his direction.

Jack did as indicated. He missed the warmth of her hand but loved the sight of her smile.  After a few minutes, Jack noticed the other people in the audience loosening their hands, and cautiously removed a finger from one ear. Mrs Bolkonsky was talking in a more animated tone now, offering names ‘from her spirit guide’ to the audience. After a few suggestions, she appeared to achieve a success, and Phryne and Jack watched with interest as the older woman made her way through a series of platitudes and alleged messages over the next fifteen minutes.

That spirit had apparently departed.  According to Mrs Bolkonsky, they were waiting for the next guest from the spirit world. Jack wondered how that looked to the Spiritualist? Was it like a doctor’s waiting room? A bus or a train? Was it a big white room with no distinguishing features whatsoever?

“Edward is here,” called out Mrs Bolkonsky and Phryne saw her Aunt Prudence rise from her seat.

“Oh god, oh no.” Phryne pleaded quietly.

Jack took Phryne’s hand in his, “Your Uncle?”

Phryne nodded. “Yes. Jack, I can’t be here for this.”

“I can’t leave Phryne.”

“I know.”

He looked at her and felt himself torn, “I don’t know what to do.”

“You stay here, I’ll slip down the side of the room to that hall at the back. I’ll pretend I’m checking out the interval refreshments.”

Jack nodded and Phryne tip-toed off. Jack sat back, watching the woman work Phryne’s aunt into such a state that she began to cry. Jack had always been slightly frightened of Prudence Stanley, and it was odd to see her reduced to such human frailty in front of him. In his pocket, Jack’s phone, which he had set to vibrate only, did so. He carefully retrieved it and read the text from Phryne.

_** Come quickly – second murder on side of stage? xx P ** _

Jack took a moment to consider that he was being alerted to a crime by text. With kisses at the end of the message. He hoped this wasn’t a ruse to drag him away from his observations. As casually as he could manage, he put the phone into his pocket and started to ease his way to the corridor he had passed along two days earlier.

Phryne was waiting for him. She seemed pale but controlled and Jack instinctively reached out to her. “Are you OK?” he asked.

“Better than Mr Hamilton,” said Phryne, pointing her hand towards the small wing area of the side of the stage. There, face down, lay Mrs Bolkonsky’s manager. There was a pool of blood formed around his head, his hair also encrusted with the bodily fluid.

“I presume you’ve checked he’s really dead?” Jack asked, already knowing the answer to his question.

“Yes. No pulse. Nothing. What do we do when you’re already here?”

Jack sighed. There was no denying this was embarrassing, and he could only imagine how bad it was going to look that his  _ girlfriend _ had found a dead body, whilst they were already on an active investigation, the murder appearing to have been committed under his very nose.

“I’m going to call it in. You found the body?”

“Yes. I was just…”

“Don’t tell me, please.” Jack interrupted, with what he hoped was a kind plea. “I need you to sit in…” he looked around and spotted the dressing room they had used for interviews, “in here, and write down everything you can recall, now. Do you have a notebook?” Phryne nodded. “Good. Write it all down, everything from tonight and especially everything from when you found the body. Don’t speak to anyone else until either myself or another officer come back to you.”

“You should stop the show.” Phryne said, resignedly.

“Yes. Thank you.” Jack smiled, which he immediately thought was inappropriate. He guided Phryne into the small side room, pulled the door and made a phone call to SKR.

Noticing the kerfuffle, Mrs Bolkonsky interrupted her discussion with a lady on the third row who, from what Jack could gather, had an elderly aunt with urgent news to impart regarding the location of a set of keys.

“What is it Inspector?” asked Mrs Bolkonsky.

“I’m afraid there appears to have been an unfortunate incident this evening. I am going to have to ask everyone to remain here whilst we take your details, and, if necessary, your statements.”

Jack was grateful that he had arranged for Collins and Jackson to be nearby in a vehicle and they arrived at the back of the hall before Jack had finished his brief announcement.

The two constables were quickly followed by an ambulance unit and the FS officers. Two more constables followed shortly afterwards. Jack marshalled his officers, dispatching the FS team to the side of the stage to begin their work. Jackson was directed to take details of all those present, together with a brief summary of their movements before the event had started.

Jack decided that taking Phryne’s statement as soon as possible was vital, and he directed Collins towards the side room. “Ask her to run through the evening from when we got here. Anything she saw, anything she noticed. How she found the body, whether she saw anyone else hanging around, whether she’s touched anything other than the body since she found it. Try to keep her as factual as possible. She’ll have a theory; try not to let her be distracted by it. Don’t be distracted by it yourself. When you’re done with Miss Fisher you’ll need to take my statement. So don’t tell me anything she says.”

Collins nodded at his boss, trying to tamp down a rising nervousness. Jack pushed open the door to the room Phryne was waiting in.

“Collins is going to take your statement. I can’t be here, I’m afraid. Please stay in here after you’ve finished speaking to Collins.” Jack spoke softly, hoping Phryne wouldn’t raise her hackles at being told what to do.

“Of course,” said Phryne, recognising that Jack had propelled himself directly into ‘work mode’.

Ordinarily she would object to being side-lined, literally, into a small room, but she realised that Jack had a job to do, and that he was probably going to take some stick for this evening’s events from his fellow officers. She recalled that he’d now told his DCI about them and she didn’t want to get Jack into trouble at work. He really was of great use to her as a Police Officer, and she didn’t want him to be told that they couldn’t work together anymore.

Phryne sat down in the chair all their witnesses had sat in two days earlier, and for the second time in a week found herself giving a statement about the case.

It took thirty minutes before Collins emerged from the room looking like a man who had heard too much in too short a space of time. Hugh looked around and wondered whether the fact that Miss Fisher and his boss was dating was something that should be included in his report or very definitely excluded. Excluded, he thought, on consideration. It wasn’t relevant, and Miss Fisher was an official department consultant on this case. And Collins may have been naive on occasion, but even he recognised that mentioning his boss’ private life in a report was not the way to get ahead in his career.

Collins took Jack’s statement. At the end Jack asked, “any inconsistencies?”

“Erm, No Sir. Not that I can see.”

Jack smiled minutely. “Good, good. You’ll need to type those up as soon as possible Collins. Now, if you could assist Jackson with anyone he hasn’t already spoken to in the main room.”

“Yes Sir,” replied Collins, grateful to escape the back room.

Jack knocked on the door of the room where Phryne was still waiting. Opening the door he leant against the door frame. “Would you like to come and examine the crime scene?” he asked, aiming for nonchalant.

“You take me to all the most glamorous places Inspector.” Replied Phryne, smiling brightly and moving over towards him. 

“Well I wouldn’t like to be predictable.” Jack responded, escorting Phryne to the stage.

They both knelt down to examine the body. “It’s a shame really.” Said Jack.

“Well yes.” Replied Phryne, “being murdered is terribly disruptive, I imagine.”

“No, I mean, I sort of thought he’d murdered Claremont.”

“Why?”

“Financials. Claremont was receiving large payments into his bank account. The locations the monies have been paid in from match the tour locations for Mrs Bolkonsky. But Claremont was tall, so I reckoned it couldn’t be the small medium herself.” Jack paused and gave a cheeky grin, amused by himself. “So I thought maybe the manager. I’ve got my team looking into the attendance figures at the other tour stops, to try and work out whether it’s all the money or just a percentage.”

“But blackmail? Of whatever form?”

“It seems that way. Money, rather than love, this time then.”

“I’d say ‘poor Roland’, but he’s been involved in so many shady deals over the years, I’m amazed it took so long for someone to kill him.”

Jack tilted his head in acknowledgement.

“But perhaps, Jack, we  _ are _ looking for two killers. So it’s still possible that Mr Hamilton here killed Roland.”

“True, true. Now, have the FS chaps found me a murder weapon I wonder?” asked Jack, standing up and casting his gaze around him.

“Looks like Blunt Force Trauma, Sir.” Said the photographer, snapping away taking close ups of the head-wound.

“Blunt force trauma?” asked Phryne, her interest now raised. “Jack, could I possibly have a word…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Enochian_magic
> 
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexandrian_Wicca
> 
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoodoo
> 
> And I'm assuming Buddism and Hinduism are mainstream enough for people to have at least a low level understanding of what they are. Suffice to say, our first murderer thought he knew more than he actually did...


	16. Friday 29th July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In teenagers veritas...

“Well Inspector, it was a delight, as always.”

“And thank you, Miss Fisher, for your efficient consultancy insights.”

“I’ll send my invoice to your accounts department?”

“Absolutely. Well, I’ll show you out.” Jack stood and motioned Phryne out of his office. As they stood waiting for the lift to arrive Jack glanced around him before leaning forwards and whispering, “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Your place at Eight,” confirmed Phryne.

“Yes, looking forward to it.” Jack smiled as the lift arrived and the doors slid open.

“And do try to remember to hand your visitor’s pass in at reception this time, Miss Fisher.” Jack said, louder and for the benefit of anyone who might be passing.

 

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

 

There was a knock on her bedroom door.

“Come in,” called Phryne, continuing to move around the room collecting items to put in her over-sized handbag. She should probably think about using a proper overnight bag, but that felt like an erosion of discretion, somehow. The door opened and Jane walked in, flopping down into the armchair in the corner.

“So have you solved the case?”

“We have” said Phryne, with a little smile of triumph.

Jane smiled at the use of ‘we’. That was new. “So who did what to whom then?”

“Ah well, there’s the thing. Two murders; two murderers. The first was Aunt P’s godson Roland, be thankful you didn’t know him all that well. Anyway, he was blackmailing the manager of Mrs Bolkonsky the Spiritualist Medium.”

“Why?”

“Because Warwick Hamilton, that’s the manager, was skimming off the top of the takings. Somehow, we’ll probably never know how now, Roland found out about that, and found out about how much research Warwick was doing about the audiences at the meetings. Guaranteed ‘hits’ apparently guaranteed sell-out houses. Ronnie found out and decided he had nothing to lose by demanding a slice of the pie for himself.”

“But then the manager was killed. He can’t have murdered himself?”

“That was Mrs Bolkonsky. Found out about the skimming. Apparently for all her claims of ‘not being in it for the money, but to give people answers’, she really was actually in it for the money. And as she saw it, Warwick Hamilton had become too greedy.”

“So she totally was a crank then?”

Phryne cast her mind back to earlier that week. ‘James’ could just have been a very lucky guess. Or perhaps Mrs Bolkonsky had more insight than she herself realised.  “Hmm. Maybe? Maybe she was just good at reading people, or researching them. Maybe she gave some people some comfort even if she was faking?”  

“I thought she was on stage when the manager must have been killed?”

“Ah, that was actually the clever bit. She was. Jack and I recalled that she had gone from being very calm when she first came on stage, to very animated. She was suddenly waving her hands wildly. And it turns out, she had fishing wire, tied around her fingers, and the other end was attached to a crystal ball that was fixed to its base, and she manipulated it, from the stage, to hit Mr Hamilton in the head. Then a little more arm-waving and she managed to launch the crystal ball into a corner of the wings where she retrieved it in the fuss of the body being discovered. Jack’s FS team eventually found it buried in the bottom of a costume box, Mr Hamilton’s blood still dried onto the edge of the base.”

“Wow. That is, unusually overly dramatic. Even by the standards of your cases. So, another date?” Jane asked, observing Phryne. Her guardian was still only half-dressed. She was wearing black boot-cut trousers, and at the moment there was no top covering her deep green bra.

“Yes. Is that OK?”

“Of course. You staying out overnight?”

“I’d think so.” There was a lull in the conversation as Phryne considered the various perfumes on her vanity unit.

“You know, if you’re seeing someone, you can tell me.”

Phryne paused and looked around. Phryne was an excellent poker player, but Jane benefited from having been taught to play that game by her mum, Liz, and Phryne in combination. The minutest hint of a blush appeared on Phryne’s face before fading quickly. Jane decided to continue, to just avoid the denial or the dodging that was surely coming.

“It’s just, you’ve been on a lot of dates recently, and every time you’ve worn a different outfit. Which means it’s the same person.”

“I may have trained you too well,” said Phryne, with slight resignation. “What would you think if I was seeing someone? On an, ongoing, basis?”

“I think it would depend on who it was. I mean, if, say, it was Jack, that would be fine.”

Phryne turned and sat on the edge of the bed, trying not to let her jaw drop. She floundered for any words.

“Are you seeing Jack, Phryne? Because I think you are.”

“Really?” asked Phryne, still nervous about what Jane might think about that.

“I think you’ve been seeing him since you got back from London. He’s been over for dinner less, actually, than he usually does, but I know you haven’t fallen out with him.”

“Well he’s been very busy. I believe.”

Jane decide to ignore this and plough on. “And I know he’s been sneaking out in the mornings.”

Phryne’s eyes shot up.

“I can see where he parks his car from my bedroom window.” Jane added, by way of explanation. “And I’m fairly sure he didn’t sleep in the guest room on Monday. _And_ I’m fairly sure I had to listen to the two of you having sex on the sofa a few weeks ago.”

Phryne blushed a shade of purple that would have made a beetroot proud. “Oh god. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. But you might want to clean up after yourselves a bit more.”

Phryne raised an eyebrow. Could this get any worse?

“I found the condom wrapper shoved down the back of the cushion.”

“Oh, god.” Repeated Phryne, burying her head in her hands.

“So why haven’t you said anything?” Jane asked, leaning forwards, “you’re not embarrassed about him are you?”

“No, no. We’ve just been taking it very slowly.”

Jane raised an eyebrow at that.

“No trust me, we really have.”

“Honestly, you and Liz are as bad as each other. It’s like you’re both too scared to admit that you might have found someone you’re happy with.”

“I’m not sure it’s the same as Mac…” Phryne said, wondering exactly what she was comparing herself to.

“It’s almost three months since you got back from London. Are you about to dump him?”

“Erm, no, I don’t think so. We’re, taking it as it goes, and I think it’s going OK.”

“Has he told you he loves you?” asked Jane, teenage curiosity overcoming her.

Phryne went silent and picked at her fingernails.

Jane squealed. “Oh my god he has! Oh my god, what did you say? Did you say it back?”

“I’m not sure he remembers saying it,” admitted Phryne.

“What?” said Jane, her knowledge of declarations of love limited to TV, films and books, where it either went disastrouslybadly, or very well, but was certainly memorable..

“He fell asleep as he was saying it, and he’d had quite an emotional evening. And he hasn’t said it again since, so I don’t think he knows he said it. I think he’s trying not to panic me.”

“Do you love him?”

“Erm, well, I don’t know. How do you know?” Phryne asked the room and herself more than Jane.

“You feel all warm and fuzzy and tingly in your stomach and when he kisses you it’s like the world is both on fire, and that nothing else matters,” replied Jane, her eyes as big as saucers.

“Do we need to have another talk about this Kip of yours?” asked Phryne.

“No. But he’s asked me out to the cinema tomorrow.”

“That’s good. Remember, if you’re uncomfortable, excuse yourself and get a taxi home. And if he won’t accept politeness, knee him in the balls and run like hell.”

Jane nodded. She turned the conversation back to Phryne’s love life. “Why aren’t you saying anything? You should say something Phryne, tell people. Because sneaking around like you are gives the suggestion that there’s something furtive about it. You’re the happiest I’ve seen you in ages, and that’s a good thing.”

“But what if we tell people and then it doesn’t work out?”

“What if it does work out? And it’s much more likely to go wrong, I think, if you’re not telling people and lying, at least by omission, about where you are and who you’re with.”

“Right, well, plainly you know. About Jack and I.” Phryne paused, ‘Jack and I’. That sounded, OK, all right. Not too scary.

“And I think it’s great. Really Phryne.” Jane hugged Phryne, who was still slightly surprised by this conversation. “You should start bringing him to Tuesday night dinner, if you want to I mean. And maybe Liz should start bringing Kate? Then the two of you can stop being awkward about your love lives around each other.” Jane stood up and moved back to the door, leaning against the wall. “And remember, it’s not official until it’s on Facebook. Have a nice night.”

And with that, Jane swept out of the room leaving a somewhat stunned Phryne still sat on her bed.

 

 


	17. Saturday 30th July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Interesting small talk"...

Phryne stretched as she woke. She rolled over and looked at Jack, whose mouth hung open slightly as he slept. Phryne cautiously moved her hand into his hair, ruffling it through her fingers. She had discovered fairly early on that the sensation was remarkably pleasing, and that it could make Jack emit sounds somewhat similar to a purr.

Jack stirred, smiling as he did. Phryne was stroking her fingers through his hair. He loved that, it felt so soothing and intimate.

“Hmm, good morning.” He said, his eyes still closed.

“Morning,” said Phryne, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Jack wrapped his arm around Phryne’s waist, his skin seeming to melt into hers.

“Am I going to have to be a witness for the prosecution because I found Warwick’s body?” Phryne asked, kissing Jack’s jawline.

“Probably. Won’t be for a bit though. Have you appeared in Court before?” Jack slowly opened his eyes and gently kissed Phryne’s neck.

“Mostly Civil stuff. High-level Criminal will be interesting.” She kissed his clavicle.

“I can talk you through it if you like.” Jack pulled Phryne closer and nipped her earlobe.

“I’ll take you up on that closer to the trial date.” Phryne tilted her head back as Jack kissed his way along her jawline. “You never got your palm read.”

“I’m not too bothered.”

“You don’t want to know your future?”

“I prefer to think that I can determine my future myself.”

Phryne reached for the hand of Jack’s attached to her waist, lifting it to her lips and kissing it gently. She opened his palm, and ran her fingertips across the lines crossing his skin. “Hmm. I see a careful, cautious man with infinite patience, who carefully guards his heart from anyone he thinks might try to hurt him, who has a passionate nature that he hides behind a serious façade he lets few glimpse behind. A man with a heart as deep as the Pacific Ocean.” Phryne looked at him, her breathing becoming shallower. Willing him to understand that she knew how he felt, and that she wasn’t running, she stayed still and allowed him to make the next move.

Jack paused his attentions to her neck and jaw and looked at Phryne. “I think I like your insight more than Mrs Bolkonsky’s.”

“I’m preferable to a murderer? Well that is good to know.”

“Yours said three children.” Said Jack, a concern which had been running through his mind representing itself for consideration.

“And I think that was definitely complete nonsense.”

Jack went quiet for a moment and Phryne felt the atmosphere in the bedroom become somehow more serious. “Can I ask you something incredibly personal?” he asked, quietly.

Phryne raised her eyebrow, “Go on.”

Jack swallowed and composed his words carefully before he spoke. “Obviously, there’s no escaping the fact that I’ve been married. I mean, I’ve lived with a woman. For over a decade. I know how things are supposed to work. And _we’ve_ been sleeping together for almost two months now. And you don’t appear to have had a period. And just, are you all right? Is everything OK?”

Phryne took a moment before she responded. Jack was right, that was incredibly personal. And very sweet that he was concerned enough to ask and not just assume that it was ‘women’s business’. “I’m fine. I don’t want children. So that entire biological process is one which I don’t feel the need to endure, and The Pill I’m on means I don’t have to.”

“Oh,” said Jack, considering that.

“But I gather you do want children?” asked Phryne. When had the issue of ‘wanting children’ become one of those things which felt important?

Jack fell silent once more. As he spoke he ran his hand over Phryne’s stomach. “I did. I _did_ want children. But I have to face the reality that I can’t. I’m more than happy being an Uncle.” He paused again. “But the thing is Phryne, you do have Jane.”

“But she’s not my child. And she’s a teenager.”

“You’re still acting as her mother. Whatever the law might call you, that’s the reality. And I’ve seen you with her, you’re really good with her. You are acting as a parent.” Phryne shrugged as if she was attempting to deny it. “Phryne, when you went to London you put a team of us in place. You planned to be back for a specific date. I’m assuming you were in touch with her even more than you were with me. You do have a child Phryne, even if you didn’t give birth to her.”

“I had no clue what I was getting into.”

“I don't think anyone ever does, and from what I can tell, you’re doing an amazing job.”

“Oh.” Phryne went quiet. She fluttered her eyes shut again.

Jack smiled, sliding his hand from her stomach to her waist. He dipped his head and kissed her lips once more. Phryne deepened the kiss, wrapping a leg around Jack’s thigh.

Phryne could feel the atmosphere shifting once more. It surprised her how she could always be honest with Jack, and he never seemed to judge her. She didn’t want children; he couldn’t have them. So that was fine, she decided. It would never be a thorny issue.

They carried on kissing, Jack shifting his attentions once more to her upper body. Phryne was running her fingertips over Jack’s back, mapping the contours of his muscles. The caressing felt like it was becoming more focused, the kissing more purposeful. Phryne recalled Jane’s words to her last night. Jack loved her; she might feel the same. Possibly, perhaps. She wasn’t prepared to say for definite as yet. And she wasn’t prepared to say anything at all until he told her first, and when he was fully awake and aware of what he was saying.

Phryne broke from Jack’s kiss and leaned back against his arm, perusing him carefully. She looked at him; the way he was looking at her made something deep inside her shift, like tumblers falling into place in a lock. A wave of realisation washed over her as she realised that she was not going to want things with Jack to end, at least not anytime soon. Maybe they should start telling people? She wasn’t sure what she would say; ‘this is my boyfriend, Jack’? It made it sound like she was Jane’s age; 15 not 35. ‘Partner’ sounded too serious. Would people think she was a hypocrite, after all these years of making her opinions about ‘ongoing’ clear?

“What?” asked Jack, smiling as he did. There was something going on in her mind, he could tell. It was the same look she had worn on Wednesday, on their way to the séance. It was the look Phryne got when she was trying to piece together all the clues in a case. Should he ask her to explain what she was thinking? It could be anything, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to spoil the mood. He looked at her again, she was radiant this morning.

Jack’s hair flopped down over his forehead. Phryne tried to remain focused. “I think, that we should make this,” she moved her hand around and waved it between them, “ _official_.” She curled her lip nervously.

Jack fought to remain calm. “Do you now? And what does that involve?” he stroked his thumb across her spine.

“We tell people.”

Jack’s stroke of his fingers across her spine increased in speed.

“Well, who do you propose telling first?” Jack tampered down his excitement, cautioning  himself that he was not actually a love struck twenty-something. No, he could be mature and calm about this.

“Hmm. Everyone?”

“An advert in The Argus perhaps?” said Jack, aiming for lightly teasing. He was fairly sure he’d hire the billboard in Federation Square if she was up for it.

“Oh how terribly twentieth century of you Jack.”

“What then?”

“Well, according to Jane, these things aren’t official until they’re on Facebook.”

“According to Jane?”

“She’s rather figured us out.”

“Oh. And how was she about that, us, this?” Jack stumbled over his words.

“She seems to approve.”

“OK. Well, that’s good.” Jack tried to control himself. He really wanted to tell everyone; all his family, and his friends, and even total strangers that he was involved with Phryne. But Facebook felt like a different proposition. A very global, very public proposition, somehow. “Are you sure about this?”

Phryne took a deep breath and threw herself off another cliff. “Of course I'm not sure. But I do want everyone to know about us.”

“Well I won’t argue against that.”

Phryne rolled back and reached for her phone on the bedside table. She grabbed Jack’s as well and passed it to him. Jack looked confused. “Apparently one of us sends a request and the other one accepts.” She offered.

Jack took his phone and opened Facebook. He wasn’t even sure where the bit for this was in the app. Phryne scrolled through, pressing various menus until she found the screen she needed. She clicked a few more times and Jack saw part of the top of his screen turn red. He pressed that and smiled at the words he saw, pressing his thumb to ‘accept’ without hesitation. The app jumped to his Wall, where the most recent update now read,

 

_Phryne Fisher is in a relationship with Jack Robinson_

 

Jack rolled away and put the phone down. He rolled back and Phryne pressed herself to him. Jack did enjoy the mornings when he could wake up wrapped around Phryne. Any day that started this way was always going to be a good day, whatever else it might hold.

Jack kissed her again, the warmth between them building once more. Their phones buzzed.

“Ignore it” Jack mumbled against her skin.

Phryne sighed, and allowed her muscles to relax. She felt a warmth flood through her and shifted her thigh to lie over his. “Hmm, Jack,” she murmured, her eyes crinkling as she smiled. She kissed him, and they continued to indulge in each other, kissing and stroking and caressing every inch of the other they could reach.

She reached for the drawer, rolling back and stroking Jack’s cock gently. Before she quite knew how, Jack was inside her. Phryne sighed, wrapping her arms loosely around Jack’s shoulders. Their movements were gentle and slow, their kisses soft and languid. Phryne felt herself shudder, all control of her body surrendered. Jack came, surprising himself, as they both reached their peaks together. As they began to come down from the crests of their waves, they both continued their careful movements as they floated back down.

As they stilled and broke off from kissing, Phryne looked at Jack, and saw the love written across his face. She found that she wasn’t scared, that the thought of it did not make her want to run away and hide. She still had no clue how this would work, how they would move forward now that everyone would know, or whether what she felt was truly love, or even the beginning of it. But she wanted to try. She pulled him to her and kissed him once more.

 

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

 

Jack fumbled for his phone and Phryne’s and passed hers to her. His phone told him he had a large number of notifications for Facebook. He pressed the screen a few times, and found himself looking at a picture of him, a picture of Phryne and a large number of comments from their friends and family.

“Are you seeing this?” he asked Phryne.

Their ‘relationship status’ update had received a lot of likes, and a lot of comments. As they read the posts, the number of likes carried on increasing.

_Spike Wells - Hoorah! Congrats Phry, told you it’d be fine! H._

_Liz Mac - subtle H, subtle!_

_Spike Wells - I am the soul of discretion **Liz Mac**._

_Liz Mac - no you’re not. But thanks for your help. ;P_

_Spike Wells - :)_

_Eddie Robinson - Erm. Hello Jack. You’ve kept this quiet. Who is she?_

_Eddie Robinson - **Lizzie Robinson-Shaw** , **Kath Saunders** , have you seen this?_

_Kath Saunders - Oh well this explains why he’s been smiling during Sunday lunches._

_Lizzie Robinson-Shaw - WHAT!?!? WHAT!!! Oh my god! Are you kidding me?_

_Eddie Robinson - Might want to try for slightly calmer there Lizzie._

_Lizzie Robinson-Shaw - you need to come home more often. How do you not know who she is?_

_Eddie Robinson - What am I missing here?_

_Lizzie Robinson-Shaw - too many lunches at mum’s. I’ll call you!_

_Simon ‘Windy’ Miller - nice one Phryne! Seems like a top bloke from what I could gather._

_Hugh Collins - does this mean I don’t have to pretend not to know anymore?_

_Dot Williams - HUGH COLLINS! Shush!_

_Hugh Collins - what? Because, I thought we weren’t saying anything?_

_Bertie J - if they say something themselves then you’re allowed to know **Hugh Collins**._

_Hugh Collins - Oh, good._

_Cec Yates - more to the point, did anyone have today on the sweep?_

_Jane Ross - Whoever does have today, I want a share._

_Bertie J - have you tried to wangle the results young Jane?_

_Jane Ross - not at all *angelic face*_

_Bertie J - I got my eye on you **Jane Ross**_

_Eddie Robinson - **Jack Robinson** , if you can see this, Sis 1 is probably about to call you. You might need ear plugs!_

_Cec Yates - come on, someone must have had today? Who’s got the utd spreadsheet?_

_Dot Williams - I have. hang on._

_Dot Williams - Oh._

_Mrs Prudence Stanley AM - I believe I have ‘won the sweep’ for when my niece and the Inspector would share their happy news with us. Mr Johnson, my ‘winnings’ shall be donated to charity. I will require sight of the receipt._

  


Phryne scrolled through her notifications. “Are your siblings having a conversation about you in the comments?”

“They do appear to be, yes. Is ‘Spike Wells’ an alias for, erm, Harry?”

“It is. I would say I’m astounded he’s up at this time, but he’s probably _still_ up from last night.”

“Your friend Simon is up very early though.”

“I suspect he’s awake but not yet up. Rather like us.” said Phryne, reaching across and pressing her lips to Jack’s.

“Phryne, 134 people like this!”

“Why are none of our friends in bed and asleep on a Saturday morning?”

“I don’t have 134 friends on Facebook.”

“Oh I am going to kill Bert and Cec!” Phryne glared at the small screen of her iPhone.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Is it possible that absolutely everyone knows? That they did know, already?”

“Apart from your siblings, seemingly.”

Jack’s phone rang. “Oh, here we go,” he said, answering the phone.

“Should I…?” Phryne started to rise from the bed.

“Absolutely not, come here.” said Jack, gathering Phryne to his chest and holding her to him as he answered the phone. “Lizzie! Morning. I presume you’re calling to bellow at me about my love life?”

“Mum is going to go nuts, Jack. What in the hell has happened to your life?”

Jack chuckled. “Mum will be fine, I’m sure. She’s absolutely desperate for me to date.”

“Not Prince Harry’s secret girlfriend though!”

Jack felt Phryne flinch and rubbed her arm softly. “OK, you have bought into the tabloid journalism too much.”

“Jack, there’s a video, of her, speaking to Harry. I’ve read the transcript. Several times. I had very little choice but to read the transcript several times.”

Phryne bit back a moan of despair. “Lizzie.” Jack’s tone approached pleading. “That damn video will haunt me to the end of my days.” He sighed, looking at Phryne and rolling his eyes. “It’s me.”

“What?”

“On the video. It’s me. Not Harry. Phryne called me.”

“Well why didn’t you just say something?”

“Because that whole thing blew up whilst Phryne was still on the way home, and we decided we wanted to keep _us_ between well, us, and the tabloids were in such a frenzy that they’d have made things very difficult. Do you know how utterly disconcerting it is to see your private life being broadcast to the world?” Phryne snuggled her shoulder into Jack’s chest, as he stroked her waist and back. As phone calls with his sister went, Jack felt that this was moving rapidly towards the top of the lists for both ‘most bizarre’ and ‘most intrusive’.

“When did you start seeing her?”

Jack sighed and glanced at Phryne once more; she could plainly hear every word his sister was saying. Phryne smiled at him and nodded slightly to indicate she had no objection to him sharing. “When Phryne got back from London. We went to dinner, and, well, it’s carried on from there.”

“When did you go to dinner?”

“Erm, the first Friday in May?”

Lizzie sucked in a breath. “You sat there, Jack! You sat there at Sunday lunch, when mum was showing us all the newspapers, and you were going out with her already, and you never said! Oh mum is going to have kittens when I tell her!” At that Phryne raised an eyebrow.

“Lizzie, Lizzie, please don’t. I need to break this to her gently.”

“Jack it’s on bloody Facebook. Eddie has no sodding clue what’s going on, and thanks to the fact that he hasn’t been home since Easter, he’s not had to endure mum pouring over the newspaper clippings of the Royal Wedding. Oh my god, your girlfriend was at the Royal Wedding!”

“She was,” Jack smiled and reached out for Phryne’s hand, stroking it gently.

“So you haven’t told mum?”

“Not yet. And please just let me get there in my own time, Lizzie.”

“You’ll never be able to keep this quiet.”

“Probably not. But please just let me talk to mum, yeah, before you wade in and give her half a story.”

“You are no fun Jack.”

“I’m loads of fun. Now, if you don’t mind Lizzie, I was slightly, busy.”

“Busy? Is that what we’re calling it now? And you answered your phone! I shall let you go Jack, but only because Henry and Billy and Sally are about to cause a riot in the kitchen.”

“Tell them their Uncle Jack says Hi, and I’ll no doubt see them very soon.”

“And their Aunt Phryne?"

"Enough, Lizzie." said Jack in a tone that held a distinct warning edge.

"You at lunch tomorrow?”

“Probably, yeah.”

“I might see you then. Bye Jack.”

“Bye Lizzie.” and with that Jack hung up the phone.

Phryne had overheard the conversation, and a few things had occurred to her as his sister had been hyperventilating down the phone. “Does your mum know who I am?” she asked.

“In the sense of us seeing each other? No.”

Phryne pushed herself upright. “But she knows who I am in terms of the tabloid nonsense?”

“Yeah.”

“She thinks I’m seeing Harry.”

“I have tried to dissuade her of that notion. I’m not sure how much she was listening to me.”

“How keen on the royals is she?”

“Bunting, Phryne, bunting. Sixty metres of the stuff, hung from every ceiling in the downstairs of her house. By me. Balanced on a step-ladder.”

“Oh god” moaned Phryne, burying her head in her hands.

“She’ll like you Phryne. If you ever meet her. Not that I’m saying you should feel you have to do that. She really will like you,” replied Jack, reaching out to pull Phryne back to him.

“Oh I should have said something. I should have just said there was nothing going on, that they’d got the wrong end of the stick, that my father was talking out of his backside, as per usual.” Phryne wanted to bury her head in her hands and scream.

“Phryne, it’s fine. We know what happened, and that’s all that matters, yeah?” he kissed her nose.

Phryne nodded. It felt like their bubble was being burst already. Jack looked at Phryne. His sister was a nightmare sometimes, and she wound their mum up. He’d have to broach the subject with his mum sooner than he’d have liked.

“OK. So, we’ve done this your way. With Facebook. That’s been, interesting. Can we try my way now?”

Phryne looked up at him, “your way?”

“Yes.”

“What’s your way?”

Jack took a deep breath. He’d been meaning to ask Phryne this for the last few weeks, but it had never felt like the right time, and he’d been worried that it would be a bit too public. He cleared his throat softly and took her hand in his. “Phryne, will you do me the honour of accompanying me to the Firemans’ and Policemans’ Ball?”

Phryne’s eyes widened. Dot had been bouncing around the office about the ball for weeks now. Phryne didn’t realise it was the sort of event Jack went to. “When is it?” she asked.

“A week today?” Jack answered.

“You’re leaving it a bit late.”

“I know.”

“Is it a big do? I’ve never been able to get sense out of Dot about it.”

“Absolute highlight of Melbourne’s social calendar.” said Jack, smiling sweetly but in a manner that Phryne realised meant he was joking.

“Press?”

“Absolutely guaranteed to be on Page, 15? of Force Life, and probably front page of the TPAV journal. And whatever the Fire Boys have. But other than that, I don’t think anyone cares.”

“Dress code?”

“Black tie.”

“A week out and you think I can just throw something together for a black tie do?”

Jack decided to dodge that particular bullet. He thought he'd heard teasing in her voice. “There’s dancing, Phryne. Proper, old-fashioned dancing. At least for a bit, before the DJ kicks in. I’d really like it if you came with me. As a couple. No hiding.”

Phryne thought about it. She’d wanted to dance with Jack when she’d been in London, and this seemed like the sort of public event that wasn’t really very public at all. And ‘black tie’ meant that Jack would be in a tuxedo. That sounded like something she very much wanted to experience.

“OK.” she said, nodding her head nervously.

“Yes?” asked Jack.

“Yes.” agreed Phryne.

Jack pulled Phryne to him, kissing her deeply. When they broke the kiss he smiled at her. Jack reflected that this was all going much better than he could ever have imagined.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mrs Prudence Stanley AM - Aunt P has a gong, specifically - 
> 
> "Member of the Order of Australia (AM)  
> Appointment made for service in a particular locality or field of activity or to a particular group." 
> 
> And of course, she's not shy about telling you about it!


End file.
